Difficult
by Hades'Queen
Summary: Tracey Davis swore to never fall in love, but love is a force of nature that can not be stopped, even by a difficult, willful girl. Tracey Davis/Snape, Blaise Zabini/Tracey Davis.
1. Fifteen

**Disclaimer: **All that you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**A/n: **This story is for the "Slytherin Switch Challenge" by Paris in December. Its a Build Your Own Plot Bunny. Story will feature Tracey Davis/Severus Snape and some Tracey Davis/Blaise Zabini (not in that particular order). Tracey Davis is a Slytherin girl in Harry's year, so the timeline will more or less be her school years and easy to follow, though if you have questions, you can leave them in a review and I'll make an effort to get back to you on it.

Story to be rated T because I don't think I want to bother with agonizing over scenes of a sexual nature (least not in much detail if there are any), although there will probably be a fair bit of curse words.

**Summary: **Tracey Davis swore to never fall in love, but love is a force of nature that can not be stopped, even by a difficult, willful girl. Tracey Davis/Snape, Blaise Zabini/Tracey Davis.

**Difficult**

"_'Cause when you're fifteen and someone tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them."_

-Taylor Swift, Fifteen

_**Chapter 1: Fifteen**_

Tracey Davis.

It had taken him a bit to place the student to the name when Professor Dumbledore had mentioned it. Severus supposed if he was the only one that had been summoned to speak of her to, that she was in his house and if he was having such a hard time placing her, was because she was a first year and hadn't been long at the school.

He went over the first year girls and after some thought, he conjured up a bleary image of a small, thin first year with dark hair who wore rectangular, black-rimmed glasses. She was a quiet girl, he didn't think he'd ever heard her speak. Because she was not an exceptionally good student in his class, nor a disaster, she didn't call any of his attention.

Severus wondered why Professor Dumbledore had summoned him to the Headmasters office to speak of the girl. Severus knew she wasn't a troublemaker because if she had been, he would have been able to place her faster. After a discussion they had, Severus was grimacing. No, as he'd suspected, the girl had done nothing wrong. However... he was sure that after this night, he would have no trouble placing her in the future.

He wasn't guilty about blanking on her after searching for her in the Slytherin common room. He'd asked Pansy Parkinson if she knew where the girl was, and the girl had grimaced and said she had no idea and had no reason to. Daphne Greengrass, having heard him marched up to him and told him that she knew Tracey a little better than most, and that he could probably find her in the Library.

Severus walked into the Library and peered around the entrance, wondering how he was supposed to locate the girl. "Do you need something, Severus?" Madame Pince asked as she was walking behind him carrying a small stack of books, while another much large one floated behind her. Severus turned and gazed at the woman.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Tracey Davis would be-"

"Muggle Literature Section," Madame Pince huffed impatiently before walking away. Severus furrowed his brow at this for two reasons. Madame Pince, most unhelpful librarian he'd ever met, who he suspected hardly knew any of the students that ever came to school, knew Tracey Davis by name and knew where she would be without seemingly any doubt? And furthermore, muggle literature? He'd never known any Slytheirn to know or even care to know anything about muggles, much less their literature.

It seemed so odd to him, though he thought perhaps it wasn't all things considered, but he couldn't bring himself to think about it as he made his way through the library, looking for the section Madame Pince had indicated. He had something he needed to do, that was rather unpleasant. He didn't think he was an adequate messenger for tragic news. The person receiving, especially one quite so young, would need comfort and he was a taciturn person who usually bordered on cruel when he did choose to speak at length. However, there was no choice in the matter. He was her Head of House and according to Professor Dumbledore, the girl was as unknown to the rest of her Professor's as she was to him.

Severus steeled himself for the moment as he found the muggle literature section. It was all the way in the back of the library. It was practically a nook, covered in dust and in dim lighting. Curfew was drawing nearer, and Severus had to squint his eyes a bit as he searched the girl. He saw a dark little bundle on the floor near the window.

As he drew nearer, he noted that the girl sat on he floor with her knees nearly drawn up to her chest. She cradled a book in her hands, propped up on her knees. Her dark hair was loose and curtained her small, pallid face. She didn't seem to be wearing her glasses and Severus wondered how she could see considering she had bangs that were swept to the right and seemed long enough to cover her right eye.

He watched as the girl tensed as he approached and turned sharply to see who was coming. When her left eye caught sight of him, he watched as her small dark brows furrowed before she narrowed her eyes at him and regarded him with slight suspicion. "Miss Davis?"

"Yes, Professor Snape?" she asked politely in an audible, steady tone that almost seemed defiant of something he didn't know. She closed the book she was reading and got to her feet. Severus almost grimaced at the fact that she still didn't even reach his shoulder in height and that her school robes made her look even smaller. The only thought running through his mind was the fact that she was so young.

Severus reached into his pocket and drew a letter form it. He paused for a moment before handing it to the girl. As he handed it to her, he looked into her eyes which inexplicably were able to hold his gaze. Tracey Davis; Eleven; Slytherin; and probably muggle-born or in the very least raised by muggles.

She frowned as she took it and regarded it. Noticing her name on it, she opened it while shooting a last wary glance at him. She took a steady breath as she turned her gaze to the letter, and Severus could see how her shoulders tensed as though she sensed that she knew what she was going to read.

He watched as her hair fell about her as she looked down and her eyes started scanning the note. Her hair was pretty straight and barely reached past her shoulders and fell in layers. He stood quietly and noted when she started to take deep breaths, her shoulders rising and falling unsteadily. He watched as she frowned deeply as she started biting on her lips as thought to keep them from trembling.

The book she'd been holding fell to the hardwood floor with a dull thud as Tracey scrunched the letter in her fist. When she looked up, Severus saw a single tear roll down her left eye, quickly racing down her cheek. With one of her fists, Tracey wiped the tear away, and Severus wondered if she had been close to her sister who'd just passed away. She seemed more under control than he'd expect any eleven year old would be.

Either she didn't understand what death really meant, or she wasn't so close to her sister to require an earth-shattering response. Her dark eyes latched on his, and the way her brows were shaped and considering the expression her face had, he felt that she was angry. However, the way her eyes sparkled told him otherwise. Without thought, he found himself going through the memories at the forefront of her mind.

He saw a younger Tracey, maybe seven or eight at the time, roaring like a feral animal at a slightly older girl with long, straight, brown hair. He saw an even younger Tracey, maybe three or four years old, curled up against that same older girl, falling asleep as a story was read to her. He saw a Tracey, not much younger than the one that stood before him presently, sitting and watching her older sister with awe as the girl played the violin masterfully. He saw Tracey staring enviously at her older sister speaking with a woman he assumed was their mother.

"What now then?" Tracey said. Severus regarded the girl cooly for a moment. Though she seemed able to control the urge to cry, her voice trembled with the emotions she was trying so hard to keep at bay. Her voice was raw, not smooth as he'd heard it earlier. He could hear deep pain, and anger in her tone, but the tilt of her chin told him that she was too proud to allow herself to show her despair anymore than she already had.

He bent and picked up the book she dropped. "Its been arranged for you to go home today. You will go pack some of your things and I will be dropping you off at home. I will pick you up in the afternoon on Saturday," he said in the same brisk tone he used in his Potions lectures, as he looked down at the book she'd been reading. _Hamlet_ by William Shakespeare. He was a little surprised by the selection as he was aware that the themes in the play were beyond the mental scope of a typical eleven year old.

However, as he looked up and found the dark eyes of Tracey Davis, hardened against whatever pain she was triumphantly managing to put aside, he had more than a feeling that she was not a typical first year. Not even close. In his head, he thanked the heavens for this. No blubbering child he had to somehow manage to provide comfort to.

Severus reached out to hand the book back to the girl. She took a look at it and furrowed her brow. "To be or not to be..." she mumbled as her lips trembled a bit. She shook her head as she ducked it and walked past him. Once more, he could her shoulders trembling a bit as she walked away. He looked down at the book she failed to take and furrowed his brow, wondering why that would make her emotional. However, he didn't have time for this and merely set the book on a shelf and walked away, following the girl.

Together they exited the library in silence and made their way through the halls. Severus could hear every ragged drawing of breath from the girl he had to accompany so he didn't bother checking to see if she was all right. Under the circumstances, he didn't expect her to be, but she was holding it together.

Walking towards Slytherin seemed to be taking forever, and he would have been relieved when they finally made it, but the fact remained that he still had to walk the girl down to the gates and accompany her all the way home. "I'll wait for you here," Severus said as they stood outside of Slytherin. Tracey merely nodded and walked inside Slytherin without muttering a word or looking at him. He didn't have to wait long, no more than ten minutes when she returned with a cloak and a small bag slung over her shoulder.

Once more, they headed out silently towards the gates. Because of the bitter cold out, being as it was early February, they made their way briskly. Severus was slightly surprised when they approached the gates and found Professor Dumbledore standing there. He was standing, seemingly waiting for them, with his hands held behind his back.

"Miss Davis, I'm very sorry for your loss," Professor Dumbledore said as they two Slytherins came to stand before him. Severus turned and watched the dark-haired child slowly look up. She stared blankly at the headmaster before shrugging her shoulders. Professor Dumbledore frowned slightly at this. "Has Professor Snape explained that given the circumstance you will be given leniency on your grades for the rest of term." Once more Tracey shrugged as she looked around, clearly disinterested in the topic. "I see, well we could discuss it when you return if you wish. Once more, you have my sincerest condolences."

"Did my mother say it was a suicide?" Tracey asked dully, her voice barely more than a whisper as her eyes slowly wandered to look up at the Headmaster's bespectacled gaze. Severus was slightly taken aback. All he'd been told was that Tracey's sister had passed away in an accident.

"Your mother merely said there was an accident. Do you have reason to believe your sister would do harm to herself?" Albus asked with a frown as Severus too furrowed his brow in thought, thinking back to what the girl had mumbled earlier in the library.

"I don't think Marie is ever really happy. Mother thinks because she smiles she is... but she's never heard Marie play the violin in her room, but I've heard her heart breaking for years," Tracey said as her gaze wandered off and she stared with a frown into the dark night. Her voice sounded coldly detached, like she was merely reciting poetry she's read and memorized, with putting no thought to its words or the meaning behind them. "She's too sensitive, like Victor and he killed himself before I was born, so Marie's predisposed to it."

"Victor?" Dumbledore asked.

"Marie's father," she responded, still staring off. She then turned to look at Dumbledore, "He's certainly not mine." Severus wondered at how she was so sure, and could hear the anger and defiance in her tone. It was almost as though she had revulsion to being associated to such a weak creature... or feared that the same predisposition her sister had, would be hers too.

"Well your mother said it was an accident, perhaps-"

"I'm not wrong. Marie writes me almost daily. She hasn't written for two weeks," Tracey said angrily, though Severus didn't know if it was because of the implication that she was not right, or if she was merely projecting the anger she felt towards her sister. "She withdrew, which means she was composing something new and when she does that... I wasn't there! I was supposed to be there! I was supposed to be there to keep the pieces of her together!"

Severus was startled at the girls sudden shouting and the way tears were now trailing down her cheek. His mind flashed to the memory he had seen of her earlier. The feral creature yelling at her older sister, let loose on the Headmaster and himself. Severus was at an utter loss at how this girl could be cold and emotionless one moment and then a torrent of anger the next. And then suddenly, she was sobbing, and her little shoulders shaking as her face dropped.

He watched in near horror and awe and confusion as Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the girl. He watched as the girl started twisting and shoving, beating on Professor Dumbledore's middle, trying to get away from him, but Dumbledore merely held her tighter until suddenly she stopped fighting and melted into the embrace, clutching at his robes and sobbing. "How... could... she.. just... leave me," she sobbed and panted uncontrollably, barely able to get the words out, and her tone muffled by Dumbledore'r robes.

Dumbledore stroked the girls head and made cooing sounds as he stared with a frown down at the girl. "She wasn't thinking straight. When people plunge to deep in the darkness, they can no longer see," he murmured sadly.

For a few minutes, Tracey Davis continued to sob into the robes of the Headmaster, her shoulders shaking less as her sobs slowly died away. Soon, she was merely sniffling as she took a few deep breaths. When finally, she was making no noise, she pulled herself away from Dumbledore and wiped her face off on her sleeves. She refused to look up as she apologized.

"Its all right, my dear. It's best to let it all out," Dumbledore said as he smiled slightly at the girl. She merely nodded her head, but she still seemed incapable of looking up. Albus turned and handed something to Severus as he said, "I think that you and Professor Snape should get a move on, its getting quite late. Take care Tracey, and we will see you in a few days."

Tracey nodded and turned away. She looked up only enough to see Professor Snape and followed him as he exited the now open gates of the school. Once they stood beyond the gates and made their way a bit off, she was startled when he suddenly clenched a hand over one of hers. She'd barely looked up when she felt as though her lungs were being squeezed. For a few seconds, she found it hard to breath, but it was over before she knew.

Tracey staggered back when she felt the ground beneath her feet once more and Professor Snape had pulled his arm out of her grasp. She felt extremely nauseous and had to huddle over her stomach for moment, shutting her eyes tight and pressing her lips in a thin line for fear of throwing up. "What are you doing," she heard Professor Snape ask. Tracey didn't say anything as she merely took deep and steadying breaths until the nausea passed.

"What was that?" she asked as she looked up, once sure nothing from her stomach would come up if she opened her mouth.

"Side-along apparition," He replied as he turned and studied the girl. As his eyes caught her face, he thought she looked rather sick. Also, her eyes were puffy. He surmised that was an after-affect of the crying she did. She seemed to notice his scrutinizing gaze as she suddenly glared at him before quickly looking away.

"Where are we?"

"Alley near the Leaky Cauldron," he said tersely as he pulled her by the cloak towards the street. He stood at the curb and raised his wand. Promptly a purple, triple-decker bus appeared to which Tracey looked up at with wide eyes, her mouth hanging slightly open in surprise. Severus would have been amused as he turned to look at her, but for the circumstance. He merely grabbed her and hauled her up after him. He then proceeded to hand a slip of paper and some coins to the conductor before once more hauling the girl to the back where he motioned for her to take a seat on one of the beds as he sat opposite of her.

"You didn't have to tug," she said as she took a seat. Severus didn't reply to this.

"You should hold on," he advised. She looked at him suspiciously, until the moment the bus started moving and she jolted where she sat. Immediately she grabbed one of the bed posts before glaring at her smirking Professor.

Truly, she had nothing against Professor Snape. After all, he was her Head of House and he had a favoritism for Slytherin that was far too obvious for him to deny. Though the subject he taught, she wasn't great at, she was at least relieved that he was indifferent towards her. Yes at times when he walked around he handed her some criticism on how she was doing it wrong, but he did that with everyone. She was grateful that a comment here and there was all she ever got. She knew that he could be rather nasty, after all, she did have Potions with the Gryffindors.

However, she knew that before tonight, he didn't even know what she looked like. She was just another faceless Slytheirn in the sea of his Potions class. She was invisible to him. She felt that he being her Head House, he should have bothered to know in the very least what she looked like. However, she'd caught the way he'd said her name when he found her. It wasn't a Miss Davis, may I speak to you? The tone was clearly, are you the girl I'm looking for?

Not that she was greatly annoyed by this. She had a feeling that unless you were Draco Malfoy, it was best not to be on Professor Snape's radar. Besides, she didn't even bother allowing her housemates or anyone else get to know her too well, why did it matter if Snape knew her or not?

Realizing, she was kind of staring and that he hadn't even noticed because he was staring out the window, Tracey looked away. She didn't really want Snape thinking she was staring at him. That would just be weird and awkward. However, what else had she to do? Getting lost in her thoughts was hardly an option tonight.

Tracey turned and looked out the window as she held tightly to the bed's post. She hadn't even noticed that they were moving really fast. She could hardly even see the streets of london whizzing by beyond the window. "How long is this going to take? Why couldn't you just apparate to my house like you did to that alley?" she asked, not turning to look at her Professor.

Severus turned and looked at Tracey Davis. Her hair was shielding her face from view. He wondered if she was always this curious, or if she was just trying to take her mind off what awaited her at home. He'd never heard her speak in class, so he thought she couldn't be the very curious type. However, he supposed that wasn't necessarily true. There were simply students that didn't like asking questions in class because they thought other people would think they are stupid.

"I don't know, I imagine not too long. And you can't apparate to a place unless you can visualize where you're going," Severus explained in deadpan, obliging merely because it would keep her mind on something other than the death of her sister so he wouldn't have to sit uncomfortably and watch her cry again.

"Can everyone apparate?" Tracey asked, still not looking at him as she leaned her head on the post.

"You must take a test to get an apparating license in order to do so and while anyone may learn to do so, there are many incapable of it. Neville Longbottom, for instance will probably never be able to do so. The boy can barely walk, without tripping over himself," Severus said, to which Tracey snorted. Severus turned his gaze to the girl, surprised how she chose to show amusement. He didn't recall knowing very many girls even in his childhood that would allow themselves to snort without feeling self-conscious about it, which Tracey Davis certainly wasn't.

"So I guess you have to be a certain age to do it too? Like when muggles get their driving-licenses?"

"Yes," he replied as he watched her. More and more, he felt certain she lived with muggles.

"What happens if you apparate wrong?"

"You get splinched, meaning you leave a part of your body behind. It can be rather painful and gruesome."

Tracey shivered as she pictured it. "Like apparating needed a reason to be more unpleasant. It felt like when you go through those tight water-slides. All darkness and no air, makes you feel all claustrophobic," Tracey said with a grimace. Severus suspected she meant a muggle amusement-park as he really didn't know what she was talking about

"You're claustrophobic?"

"A little," she replied without thinking. Silence fell over them as they both turned and looked out windows, looking out on opposite sides. Tracey was aware that this was perhaps the most she had said to someone at any given time since she started going to Hogwarts. Severus thinking that this was the longest conversation he'd had with a student that did not pertain with school matters. Both found, that they didn't like it very much. However, they were both aware that it was necessary to keep her mind distracted.

"So, Hamlet?" he said as she was about to ask him something. However, he asked before she was able to open her mouth and she turned and looked at him questioningly.

"I like muggle literature," she said with a shrug.

"You're not wearing your glasses," he suddenly said as he furrowed his brow, only just noticing. He hardly remembered her from class, but he was sure that she was the only Slytherin girl in her year with glasses.

"I only wear them in classes, when I need to see the board. I'm near-sighted. I can't see things that are far away, at least not clearly," she said with a shrug of her shoulders as she once more turned and looked out the window. She was surprised when the bus suddenly stopped, causing her to fall back a bit on the bed. When she sat up and righted her self, she frowned as she recognized the house out the window.

Severus watched as he shoulders sagged a bit and she gazed down. Severus turned to see what she was looking at and understood. "Come along, Miss Davis," Severus said as he got to his feet. He made his way off the bus, only certain she was following because of the sound of her sneakers dragging on the ground.

They got off the bus and approached the small suburban house slowly. It was a two story home with a small yard in the front. There was a small kissing gate, as well as a tree with low branches that over-hung and covered part of the house. Slowly, Severus walked towards the gate and opened it, motioning for Tracey Davis to head in before him. She did so without saying a word or looking at him and walked over to the front door where she rung the bell. Severus stood behind Tracey and looked around. The neighborhood was definitely muggle.

They weren't waiting very long before the door opened. Severus turned and looked at the tall and slightly thin, woman that stood in the doorway. She seemed to be in her mid to late thirties. She was the same woman he had seen in one of Tracey's memories, and like the older girl in those memories, she had straight, light-brown hair which she seemed to prefer keeping in a bun. Judging by the long skirt and button-up blouse she wore, she was definitely muggle.

"Oh Tracey," she said as she took the hand on the door, and the one which held a white handkerchief to her nose to pull her eleven-year-old daughter into a hug. Severus watched curiously as Tracey stood tensely in the embrace her mother gave her, not returning it and rather instead clenching her hands to her side. A moment later, her mother let go, as she only just took notice of the man standing behind her daughter. "Oh, I'm sorry. Mina Davis," she said as she straightened and dabbed at her eyes before reaching out with a hand.

Severus grudgingly held out his hands for her to shake. He was never one for personal contact, with anyone really. "Professor Severus Snape, I'm your daughter's Head of House, it was my duty to deliver her safely home," he said, taking back his hand as soon as he was able too without seeming like he was rudely snatching his hand away.

She nodded and gave him a watery smile. "Thank you," she said as she hesitated for a moment. "Would you like to come in for something to drink-"

"No, thank you. I'm sure you'd like some time alone with your daughter," he said respectfully as he was able to. "Mrs. Davis, Miss Davis," Severus said with a curt nod before turning and briskly walking away.

XX

Tracey shut the door behind herself as she entered the dark room. She didn't even bother with turning the lights off as she crawled into the full-sized bed in the middle of the room. She'd had a very long and trying day, what with having to spend most of it in a funeral home. For the most part, she'd wanted to spend it sitting on a couch, brooding. However, doing so meant only more people wished to come over and talk to her, wish her their deepest condolences and tell her about what a wonderful girl her sister had been and how it was such a tragedy that she had died so young.

To get away from it, she decided to spend her day kneeling at the open casket of her sister. There was an arm rest on the kneeling-bench, on which she leaned her arms against to settle her chin on them. Because she was so small in stature, she didn't have to hunch over to be able to do so.

Kneeling there for hours on end was painful, more emotionally then physically, though she wasn't sure if that was because she was so focused on her grief to notice the discomfort in her knees. Kneeling-be there, starting at her sisters youthful-pretty face, as thought she were merely asleep was painful, because she knew she'd never again see those eyes open again. It hurt to know, that her sister would never more smile at her indulgently, with patience and grace when her temper got the best of her and she lashed out at the only person around that seemed to care.

Tracey wasn't sure what she felt more, sadness of never being able to spend time with her sister again, or anger at her for doing this to herself. While she knew that her sister was weak spirited, she'd never thought her to have a selfish bone in her body. No matter how much pain she was in, Tracey didn't think that there was any excuse for what she did. She had taken her own life, with no thought about how much pain it would cause to everyone she left behind.

Tracey shed tears of anger and loathing, shaking with outrage and not even recalling that there were others around to witness. It was as if the world had disappeared and there was, was Marie, young and beautiful in a coffin, never to wake again.

In that moment, Tracey hater Marie. Hated her more than she had ever hated anyone, more than she hated the man who had abandoned her. She didn't understand how a person could be so weak. It wasn't just the depression, because Tracey felt that demon beginning to grapple with her already in the past year or so and recognized it for what it was. However, she didn't know how Marie could be so weak as to entrust her only happiness to a man. How had she not learned that lesson already, when her own father hadn't loved her enough to stick around?

Auntie Jane, who'd never married, knelt next to her at one point. Tracey hardly realized she was there until her aunt told her "At fifteen, when a boy tells you he's in love with you, you're too prone to believe them, so much that you'll give to him your hearts innocence and once he's taken it and leaves you, the hear-ache can seem monumental."

Tracey had turned to her, and was startled to find that she'd been crying so much that she could hardly see out of her eyes do to their puffyness and the tears still gathering in them. Tracey had asked her how Marie could have been so stupid and Jane merely smiled sadly at her, brushing hair from her face and told her that when she was older and fell in love that she would understand.

However, Tracey did not understand. She'd read so many novels on love... undying, passionate love that fills you with yearning, agony and happiness unrivaled by everything else... but even at eleven Tracey understood somewhere deep inside that love never lasts. That more than anything it leads to suffering, that it is imperfect and to believe anyone can love with such intensity is just to set oneself up for grave disappointment.

Tracey grabbed a pillow and hugged it to herself, breathing in deep her sister's scent, which still clung to her room. As her emotionally weary soul sank into sleep, smelling vanilla and lavender, she swore to herself that she'd never fall in love, and let someone break her heart.

_**TBC...**_

_**A/n: Read and review!**_


	2. Life Crawls On

**Difficult**

"_To live remains the art which everyone must learn, and which no one can teach."_

_-_Havelock Ellis

_**Chapter 2: Life Crawls On**_

"Sit, Miss Davis!" McGonagall barked as she walked around her desk and opened something on it. "This is the second time this year that I have caught you out past curfew. I excused you last time, because you were unaware of the attack on a student, but I was very clear to you that it was for your safety to abide curfew. Now with two attacks on students, and here you are, out past curfew again! You should be expelled!"

Tracey felt a bit of panic at this as she watched Professor McGonagall walked over to the fire and throw something in it to turn the flames green. "But you can't, please Professor! Besides... isn't whatever is attacking only after muggle-borns?" she asked, but Professor McGonagall did not seem to be paying attention to her as she called into the green flames, much to Tracey's bewilderment.

There were rumors going around the school that the attacker was Harry Potter. Tracey, and most Slytherins, thought this was absurd because Potter was a Gryffindor and because one of his best-friends, Hermione Granger was a muggle-born. Most Slytherins only spread this rumor and joined in the taunting because... well Potter was a star-Gryffindor... it was a matter of principal. However, discovering that he was a Parseltongue _did_ seem a bit incriminating.

For her part, Tracey wasn't really sure what to make of it and there was a part of her that found the events disturbing and frightening. However, she felt certain that she was so invisible to most students, who hadn't even noticed her absence the previous year, that she was in no danger of being attacked.

Beyond that, ever since the passing of her sister, she had taken to being out past curfew almost daily. She'd been caught a handful of times by different Professors, and for the most part, all she ever got were detentions and when caught by Professor Snape himself, he hardly said very much about it, as though he understood her need to get away and be by herself. He didn't even punish her for it. He said nothing at all on the matter, in fact.

Minerva turned and stared hard at Tracey as she thought of the girl's statement. As far as Professor Dumbledore, and herself were concerned, Tracey was considered a muggle-born. The girl was raised by a widowed mother who was muggle. Tracey Davis' letter had personally been attended to by herself, something that only ever occurs for muggle-born students as they need a more thorough explanation. She didn't understand why Tracey believed the term did not apply to her and guessed that it all had to do with the fact that she was a Slytherin and couldn't abide the thought of being considered a muggle-born. However, to her credit, at least the girl had not used the vile term mudblood, making her not a terrible hypocrite.

"If that _were_ what the culprit is doing, but its not certain and you are still deliberately endangering yourself. I've already warned you Miss Davis, and you did not heed my warning. From my understanding, you've been caught out of bed by other Professors on different occasions and you seem incapable of controlling yourself," Minerva said sternly as the girl started to chew on her bottom lip.

Tracey sat tensely in her chair, gripping the seat at her sides. She averted her gaze, as she sensed what Professor McGonagall was driving at. "Please, don't expel me, I couldn't bare to go home," she said, distraught, and not hearing a sudden whoosh and footsteps.

"What's going on here?" she heard a familiar, silky voice ask in a low tone. Looking up, she wasn't sure whether she should feel relieved or afraid that Professor Snape had appeared out of seemingly nowhere and now stood looking between her and Professor McGonagall. His gaze settled on Tracey, looking at her questioningly.

"Professor McGonagall wants to expel me. Please Professor Snape, I don't want to go home!" Tracey said, proverbially throwing herself at the mercy of Professor Snape who, though for the most part still overlooked her, had showed her at least enough understanding not to punish her when he caught her breaking the curfew rule.

Severus raised a brow at this, surprised as the desperation Miss Davis showed by pleading with him, however, the news brought him slight satisfaction as it provided the opportunity to get even. "Miss Davis, being that you are in _my_ House, you are _my_ responsibility. The decision for your expulsion would rely _only_ on Professor Dumbledore and myself," he said sternly and evenly, to which Tracey looked up with some hope on her face. Severus turned away and looked at Professor McGonagall, only barely able to keep a sneer from forming on his face. "What is this about, Professor?"

"This is the second time I have caught Miss Davis out, past curfew. The last time I caught her was shortly after Mr. Creevey was petrified. I think you'd agree that given the circumstance, she is due for a harsh punishment."

To this Severus nodded a bit gravely. "And she will receive due punishment, I assure you Professor McGonagall, but I will decide what that is. Good evening. Miss Davis, come with me," he said looking sternly at the Slytherin girl and walking out briskly. Given his tone, Tracey jumped from her seat and followed. She was relieved that she would not be expelled, however, she was wary of what Professor Snape had in mind. She knew that he wasn't going to let this one slide so easily.

In silence, they both made their way through the halls. Tracey knew what to expect and walked with her head bowed a bit. Soon as they were down in the dungeons, she began mentally preparing herself for what was to come. She wasn't surprised when she soon found herself standing in Professor Snape's office as he shut the door behind them.

"I have now tolerated your breaking curfew long enough. I understand after the tragedy you experienced that you'd require some time to yourself, away from your housemates and I can understand you loosing track of time on the occasion. However, its been a year and staying out past curfew in times like this is the height of foolishness. You may not be the best student in my class, but I thought you were smarter than this," he hissed, his face contorted with anger as he glared down at her.

Tracey felt only slightly ashamed of this, but her anger outweighed that and she looked up steadily into Professor Snape's gaze. "Grief hasn't got a timeline, Professor, I thought _you_ understood that," she said accusingly, glaring at him. Severus furrowed his brow at this. "My sister died, and she left a vacant space behind that will never be filled, but its not as though I spend all my time lamenting her passing. I go to all my classes, and complete most if not all my school work. I eat when I hunger, and on the occasion spend time with my classmates out of class, but I like being alone and being able to hear my own thoughts and during the day that's near impossible, because there are people ALL about the castle. And in the common room or even the dorms, its hard to be left alone for any decent period of time. Don't you remember what it's like? Someone is always there, or around! The girls in my dorm stay up, sometimes long past curfew speaking pure nonsense and I just can't tolerate it! They try my patience so that I want to rip out my hair or hex them into silence! Surely you'd understand what that's like!"

Severus felt stunned for many reasons. For one, this was the most he'd ever heard the girl speak in her now two years at school. Second, he was surprised by how much the girl had shared. Thirdly, was the fact that the girl seemed to think that he could identify with her to such an extent. Where did she get the idea that he understood that one was never through grieving? Why did she think that he'd understand so intimately the need to be alone and not being able to tolerate one's housemates?

Lastly, and perhaps most shocking of all, was the fact that he _did_. Staring down at the twelve-year-old girl before him, he swore he almost saw himself at her age. Dark-haired, gangly, filled with anger and intolerance for the dunderheads that around. For a moment, he was so struck by the similarities that he'd never really found anywhere else, that he was at a loss for what to say.

Turning away from the girl, he walked around his desk and sat behind it. "You have deviated from the subject, Miss Davis. We're here to discuss your conduct, not your motives behind it. Curfew is set for your safety and I've been mistaken to have allowed you leniency on the matter before. From this day forth I expect you to be in Slytherin by curfew, if you are caught again breaking that rule, I will have you expelled. Do you understand?"

Tracey stared at him with contempt, as if he had betrayed her. "Yes, sir," she said through clenched teeth.

"You will also be serving three weeks of detention," he said, causing a look crossed her face and she opened her mouth to state how unfair that was. However, he stopped her in her tracks with a glare. "Be grateful that it isn't more. You've trespassed enough on my patience already Miss Davis. Good night," he stated dangerously, with his tone and glare telling her that there was no room for argument and to do so would incredibly stupid.

Tracey nodded, understanding the dismissal and turned to leave. "Straight to the dormitory Miss Davis," he called after her, she merely turned and gave him a nod before leaving ans shutting the door behind herself with a snap.

XX 

Tracey did not look forward to three week's worth detentions with Professor Snape. Though sometimes she felt that he would understand her perhaps more than anyone else, that still made him far from her favorite Professor. However, she supposed that was mostly because she was Potions was perhaps her worst class. Even Herbology, which also required manual labor which to Tracey was a hassle, was slightly better.

However, she was at least grateful for that fact that she was in Slytherin and not on Professor Snape's hated list. She'd heard from students from other houses how awful detentions with Snape were, he put them to do the most vile things, manually. Tracey, he only put to the task of helping him organize and take stock of his storage room.

Apart from questions here or there on the task, most of her detentions were carried on in silence with the most minimal of talking. Though the task seemed mundane and uninteresting to Tracey, she liked the general quiet that they carried-on in. Once or twice Tracey commented on a missing ingredient, to which he'd pause at and look thoughtful of, as if slightly disturbed, but for the most part it was uneventful.

It wasn't until the last day of her detention that Tracey felt any inclination to speak to him. It was the week leading up to the holidays and she was so distracted that a jar slipped from her grasp and fell on the floor as she was shelving it. Professor Snape turned to her and scowled before waving his wand, causing the broken glass and spilt potion to right itself. "You've never been this clumsy Miss Davis. _Do_ endeavor to pay _some_ attention to what you're doing," Severus snapped at her as she bent to pick up the jar.

"I'm sorry Professor Snape... but how am I supposed to pick what subject to take?" she asked, suddenly whirling around looking exasperated. "I can't stop thinking about it and there's no one I can ask. Daphne Greengrass was saying the other day that if you pick the wrong subject that you can lose the opportunity to do what you want when you grow up. How am I suppose to know what I want to do when I grow up, at only twelve? And I can't very well take every subject. It's all so nonsensical!"

Severus stared at the girl, and almost felt inclined to chuckle at the distress she was showing. If she weren't twelve, he would have thought the girl was going to give herself a hear-attack. As it was, she was turning red, as he'd never seen her do so before. However, given the fact that she was, inadvertently, consulting him, and he could see that her concern was real, he thought it best to merely try to help her.

"Miss Davis, its not so severe as all that. The subjects of most importance you are already taking. Most, _serious_ careers, require Potions, Transfiguartion, Herbology, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. You only have to pick two subjects and surely by now, you have some sense of what you like and what you don't. You can begin by ruling out what you abhor or otherwise find of no use. For instance, muggle studies. I take it you were raised by muggles, therefore you don't need to take a class to learn anymore than you do already. Living elven years as a muggle, has surely taught you more than enough about them," he explained monotonously as he went about the task they were completing.

Tracey stopped and furrowed her brow. When he put it that way, it seemed to make so much sense that she wondered how she hadn't thought of it before. "But how do I decide from the remaining four what is of use and what is not?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"Well what are your favorite and least favorite classes," he said, for the most part, disinterested as he continued stocking.

"I'm best at Charms, if that's what you mean. I suppose I do well above average in Defense and Transfiguration-"

"You misunderstand, are there any subjects you very much care for?" he said a bit irritatedly. However, he supposed that at twelve, how was any child supposed to know what passion was. At that age, most students thought of their classes as a terrible chore. Tracey, bright as he knew she had to be, was not an exception.

Tracey frowned. "Not really. I enjoy charms, but that's because Professors Flitwick makes the class so entertaining and it comes so easy to me," she said thoughtfully as her gaze unfocused, really speaking to herself more than anything. "Tranfiguartion is at times challenging, and Defense... Lockheart's a farce, I don't think I've learned anything at all from him," she said, to which Severus found himself nodding in agreement, sharing those sentiments towards Lockheart. "I think I like History of Magics, even if Professor Binns is a terrible bore, but what use is history in any career," she said with a frown. "And Potions and Herbology require far too much attention and labor... I think it would be so bad if I didn't have to constantly worry about the vile ingredients or the catastrophes that fucking up could cause-"

"Excuse me?" Severus said, turning to start at the girl, slightly startled. Not so much about what she was saying about his subject, but the fact that she had just cursed in front of him. He rarely ever heard the girl speak, and here she was having the audacity to curse in front of him? He frowned and scowled at her. This was the reason he didn't bother showing anything more than disdain or indifference towards any students, lest they believe it gave them leeway to do as they pleased.

Tracey looked up, clearly shaken out of her thoughts and looked at him questioningly as if she wasn't certain what he was asking her about. Severus sighed as shook his head, turning away. Clearly the girl had forgotten that he was even there. "Get back to work Miss Davis," here merely said firmly. Tracey merely did as was told and for several minutes they worked in silence until she asked him to explain some subjects to her and what they were of use for.

She merely stood for the following half hour, listening as he told her in a bored tone what the other subjects taught and what kind of careers required them. He only paused in his explanation here or there when she asked him what a certain career meant. The only time his tone varied, was when he was explaining Divination and could not keep his derision for it from his voice.

"You don't think that people can foretell the future?"

"I'm sure there are people out there that can to a certain extent, but I don't think its something that can be taught. Like magic, its something that someone can do, or they can't. No amount of teaching will change that."

When the lecture was over, there were only a few minutes left of detention. When leaving, Tracey offered only a small thanks. Though she was still not very sure what she wanted to take, she felt less lost on the matter. She was at least certain that she had no reason to take Muggle Studies as Professor Snape had so succinctly pointed out and she was quite sure that Care of Magical Creatures would be all wrong for her because like Herbology and Potions it would require a certain amount of manual labor she was sure, and could also be quite hazardous.

_**TBC...**_

_**A/n: **_As you can see the first chapters will be an overview of her school year. I think the story will settle in her sixth year. Anyway, please review!


	3. Ghostly Chats

**Difficult**

"_We all live, we all die, that does not begin to justify you."_

-Evanescence, Bleed

_**Chapter 3: Ghostly Chats**_

Tracey found herself seated on the sill of a window, gazing out on the dark castle grounds. The moon, hovering in the sky peeked now and then beyond the clouds and lit them. However, Tracey wasn't contemplating the dark scenery. Her mind was adrift in thoughts.

She'd never been a particularly good sleeper. She'd always felt she had an array of problems when it came to sleeping. She found it usually difficult to fall asleep, even when tired. And she was a light sleeper, the slightest of sounds would wake her and would often lay awake tossing and turning until she could fall asleep once more.

Typically, if she could remember her dreams, were very bizarre with no meaning and she was almost inclined to believe that her subconscious was mad. However, she didn't think she'd ever particularly been one for nightmares. Though there was a period in the previous school year that she had a few disconcerting nightmares, all revolving around blood-status.

Although, Tracey believed it was a bit ridiculous to think that just because you come from muggles that It made your blood dirty, or that purebloods were better, she knew enough to know that one's genetics _did_ matter for quite a bit. At least, they mattered when it came to certain inheritable traits.

It made her have dreams where she was felt something crawling under her skin and when she looked at her reflection, shaded in half darkness, her face would be … morphing. She'd stare at it in horror, as parts of it changed. At any one moment, she could see her mothers, knitted brows on her forehead, her sisters smile where her own lips should be, and Victor's long and pointy nose. She could hardly find her own features in the constantly changes where her reflection should be.

Now other nightmares were sprouting up. She kept dreaming that she woke, late in the night, and started roaming the castle only to find spatters of something along the halls and windows. At first, she couldn't see what these dark stains were, until the moon's light would come shine from beyond a cloud, and light it so she could see that it was blood.

In the dream, Tracey would feel her stomach churning in horror and would turn from the ghastly scene, only to be startled by one worse behind her. She would see a lone, lifeless body on the ground and a Dementor hovering over it, leaning down. On closer inspection though, she realized that the dark cloak it wore, was not black but dark red. And upon looking down, she realized that the victim of this creature was Marie. Not dead so much as laying lifeless and staring blankly up.

Tracey would then gasp, and the soul-sucking creature would turn to her and point, and from its fingertip, something would shoot towards her. But she wasn't sure what it was, because before she could see it, or it could hit her, she would find herself awake in bed, panting and covered in a cold sweat.

Leaning her head on the windowpane, Tracey let out a breath as she shut her eyes. It was early February. This time, two years ago, her sister had taken her own life. Tracey couldn't believe it had already been two years. Somedays, she felt the pain and grief as though she had just received the news yesterday. And there wasn't a day that she didn't think of her sister, even if just in passing.

The hardest days were those that meant something, Marie's death-anniversary being one. This year, Tracey was trying so hard not to think about Marie and she half-suspected that was the reason for the dreams. She was trying to forget, her subconscious wouldn't let her. It made Tracey feel angry, and she wasn't sure at this point if she should feel more angry at Marie, or herself.

Leaning her head back, she started banging it against the stone. She was having a hard time distinguishing what she felt, and what she was supposed to feel, if anything at all. Marie had died two years ago, why did it matter anymore? She'd accepted it, why couldn't she just go on with her life?

And what did that blasted dream mean?

Tracey stopped banging her head, as she felt a dull ache begin at the back of her head. "Am I insane?" She muttered to herself as she dug the heels of her hands in her eyes when she felt that a tear had slid down her cheek. She pressed her hands hard against her eyes, trying to think. Surely most people weren't tortured by these kinds of dreams? Did sane people bang their heads against walls? Or talk to themselves?

"Well talking to one's self is not a good sign," a stern, gruff voice said at her side. Tracey pried her hands away from her face and her eyes snapped open as she turned to see the Bloody Baron, floating there beside her. Tracey stared at him for a moment. He'd always reminded her of Jacob Marley, carrying those chains around.

"Are those chains penance for what you did in life?" she asked coldly as she looked up at him. If ghost could blanch, she was certain that's what was occurring in the Baron's face before his nostrils started flaring. "Well you don't need to be offended. I mean, I'm sure you're not called the Bloody Baron for nothing. And look at you, you died with blood on your clothes."

The Bloody Baron looked like he could kill her. Tracey, however, turned away. She didn't care much for ghost. Before she knew she was a witch, she'd thought that ghost that remained did so because they had unfinished business to take care of. Some light wizarding reading on the subject and she came to understand that ghost were simply humans who were too cowardly to face death.

After her sister had died, she wished that Marie'd become a ghost so that she could yell at her for abandoning her. However, Marie had been a coward and fled from life, she was desperate to get away from it, why would she become a ghost?

Tracey balled her hands into fist at the thought of Marie, and yet at the same time, she felt a tug at her heart. It was that ache that never went away, and walked hand-in-hand with her anger. For the second time that night, she felt the tears threatening to spill and she pushed her fists into her eyes, forgetting that she had an audience.

She wanted to hit something. She didn't want to feel this way anymore. She didn't want to remember Marie. She didn't want to feel that she missed her, and angry at herself for doing so. Marie had left her! She shouldn't want the company of someone so weak, and thoughtless! She should feel betrayed and hate Marie for it!

Without realizing, Tracey spread her legs forward and started kicking at the stone across from where she leaned. However, she was conscious enough not to flail her arms and bang on the glass to one side of her, for fear of falling out the window or at least cutting herself.

The Bloody Baron frowned at the girl. He thought for a moment the girl was throwing a tantrum and felt that she was too old. But he could hear the anguished squeaks coming from the bottom of her throat and barely making a sound past her clenched teeth. He would have thought that she was insane, but he knew what this was. He could hear it in the noise and the angry and yet hurt expression on her small little face what he was seeing. This was the tortured expressions of someone who had lost someone, and was yet lost themselves.

Suddenly, the Baron knew who this girl was. "You're that girl, the one who lost a close relative?" Tracey took a moment to realize he had said something. He throat felt very tight and she she stilled, she realized she was making a fool of herself by having been kicking her feet against the stone wall. She felt her cheeks heating and she wanted to growl at her stupidity but instead looked at the Bloody Baron.

"If you don't mind, I prefer my given name, Tracey," Tracey said, scowling. The Baron was almost amused by how quickly the girl went from grief-stricken, to cold anger in a matter of seconds.

"I'll refer to you as I wish, girl," The Baron huffed out, crossing his arms over his chest as he recalled his reason for approaching her in the first place. "It is past curfew. Return to your dorm immediately, or I will have to seek out a Professor."

Tracey felt a surge of panic at this and turned to look out the window to think. She couldn't be found by a Professor, what if Snape's threat to expel her was still in play? And it must be, with Black on the loose. However, she had no desire to return to the dorm just yet. For a moment, she cursed under her breath wondering how on earth the Bloody Baron had found her. She'd never been spotted here in this deserted hall before and she'd especially never seen the Bloody Baron haunting around here before.

Staring out the window, she wondered if she could distract him. Just as he was about to clear his throat, she decided to talk to him about the only thing she was sure he could relate to, death. "It was 2 years ago, around this time. Its odd, how death distorts time and makes it feel like it only happened yesterday. Does it feel that way to you, even after all these centuries?" Tracey began to mumble, she wasn't sure he could hear her, but she didn't care. The point was to keep him from doing or saying anything.

However, she and the Baron were unaware that their speaking, though not very loud, travelled in the dead-silent hall a bit away from where they were. In the shadows, Professor Snape was slowly approaching to investigate the noise he heard.

Tracey, was not waiting for a response form the Baron as she quickly went on. "It was my sister, by the way. Her name was Marie," Tracey said, frowning. It still felt so odd to speak of her in the past tense. "You know, she was the only person I had in the world. She was the only person with the patience to deal with me. And I was so terrible to her. I don't know why. No... I do. I resented her, she was so perfect, the apple of everyone's eye and I was just... the OTHER Davis girl. The disappointment. Mother sometimes looked at me like I was an animal not fit for society.

"I treated Marie so terribly because I envied her so. I wanted to be like her, and yet I didn't out of rebelliousness, because that would really mean there's something wrong with me. But you know, I could hit her and kick her and yell at her that I hated her and I could see the tears in her eyes and the pain, but she never left me. She stayed by me, and I don't understand why. I pushed her away and hurt her on purpose, but she wouldn't leave me.

"Why? Why would she do that?" she ended whispering after nearly ranting in a low murmur. She had gotten so lost in her memories and thoughts, frowning and fighting the tightness in her throat, that she even forgot she was talking to someone. For his part, the Baron stared at the girl with a furrowed brow, not really sure why he was listening. It had been a very long time since he had a real talk with someone alive. And he preferred being on the listening end. Usually, students were so impertinent with him, asking him things they had no right to ask.

For his part, Severus stopped approaching when he realized it was Davis and that she was speaking. He had a mind to drag her to the common room and give her detention for the rest of the year, but at the moment, his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he stood in the shadows near by, unobserved and listening. He'd always been a curious person. It had often led him astray, but he couldn't help himself.

"Love, it is a powerful thing."

Tracey stirred slightly, remembered the Baron was there. She had been trying to quell the thoughts that hurt her and keep her breathing steady. However, in the empty silent hall, she heard him clearly.

"Love?" she stated slowly, derisively, as if savoring the awful taste it left in her mouth. "Love is a terrible, awful thing. Its an imperfect sentiment in an imperfect world full of twisted people who don't really know what it is. People don't seem to know how to do anything but awful things, in the name of love."

"You're a child, you wouldn't-"

"Understand?" Tracey hissed angrily, but she wasn't able to stare away from the window. "I hurt my sister, though I loved her. She abandoned me, though she loved me. And she killed herself, because she loved a stupid boy that broke her heart. Love is meaningless. Its a plague on us. It sucks all the good from us when it goes wrong, leaving nought but an empty shell or a monster in its stead."

Tears leaked down her cheeks, but now she felt drained. Too tired to wipe them away, or weep uncontrollably. She let a few fall, before her eyes dried up.

For his part, the Baron remained silent. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd been around for centuries... and the matters of love were still a bit of a mystery to him. He'd loved Helena, but somewhere along the road a love that had been pure was corrupted. He loved that girl with every fiber that he was, adored her every pore, her great wit, and even her every fault. But she could be so cold and cruel. Nothing was ever good enough for her.

The Baron knew himself, he had his faults too; his temper and uncontrollable rage was his most regrettable. There was only so far a person could be pushed, and Helena had pushed him very far beyond his limit. He snapped. All he saw was red and when he came to himself again, and saw beyond his rage, he'd killed what he'd most loved.

The grief had been too much, the guilt consumed him, and he killed himself. However, he couldn't find it in himself to either be apart from her or to get off so easily for what he had done. He had chosen to remain a specter. He was not deserving of the peace that death brought.

All these years later, he still loved Helena. He'd grown wise enough to accept his faults and take responsibility, and his temper and love were tamed... but he was lost as any. He still wasn't sure if any of it had been worth it. Was that what love was supposed to be like? All consuming, until there was nothing left but ashes? Surely there was more?

"Love is what we make of it, Tracey. If we are all wrath and envy, how could our love be any better?"

Tracey turned slowly and looked at the Baron, furrowing her brow, wondering what he was going on about. His brows were knitted in thought, his pearly, ghost eyes looked far off. "Do you speak from experience?"

The Baron looked at Tracey and studied her for a moment. Her eyes were lit with curiosity and thought. She seemed to be trying to understand the world around and seemed to at this moment, want anyone's advice. The Baron sighed and grabbed one of the heavy chains crossing his chest. "These chains _are_ penance. In life I did not know to control my rancor, pride and temper. Because of those dark faults, I killed the woman I most loved. Perhaps, had I known how to restrain myself, I wouldn't have. Perhaps if I had not been so stubborn and dead-set on having my way, I would have moved on and tried to be merry with someone else."

Tracey looked a bit sadly at the Baron. "Well then, if the way we love is a reflection of who we are, I think its best for all those that are too human to never love," Tracey said. "Thank you, Baron," she said with a nod as she got off the sill and walked away, thinking more than ever that love was not meant for humans, because of everyone's proclivity to some form of darkness or other.

**TBC...**

**A/n: Thoughts, anyone?**


	4. Stars

**Difficult**

"_People die, but real love is forever."_

-Evanescence, Even in Death

_**Chapter 4: Stars**_

Tracey sat heavily on a stone bench in the gardens, sighing. She didn't know what was wrong with her. This was a very odd year, Harry Potter and Triwizarding tournament aside. Between the nightmares she was having and Mad-Eye looking at her like she was a ticking time-bomb, she felt exhausted.

She looked down and played with the voluminous skirts of the black dress-robes she wore. Though they were plain, she had liked them. They were off the shoulder; from two inches below her collar bone, down to her hips, they were tight like a corset. What she liked most of them, was the fact that her mother hated them.

However, that was far from her mind at the moment. Instead, she found herself thinking about what had happened fifteen minutes ago. She had been talking and laughing, shocking as that was to her, with Blaize Zabini of all people when they stopped suddenly in the Entrance Hall. She couldn't even recall why they stopped, but suddenly she was looking at something above them and was shocked to see mistletoe.

She had barely turned to look at Blaise when suddenly she felt his lips on her. It was just a brush, but she felt a small spark course through her as his lip met with hers. He pulled away as she felt a blush crawling up her neck and cheeks. He smiled at her shocked expression, before he leant in again and planted a kiss that was less chaste than the first. This was so disconcerting to her that she hadn't known what to think or do, and not a thought of stopping him crossed her mind.

She wasn't sure why, but the nervous knots that had come from the first kiss, got worse. She felt all her skin prickle pleasantly. As his soft lips moved against her own slowly, she felt like her entire body was wakening. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, and it made her heart thunder in her chest. It was painful and exquisite and she wanted more.

The fog that had come over her mind made her forget who she was. She was all nerve endings which lit on fire at his touch. There were his hands, lightly grazing on her hips, his fingertips slowly traveling to meet each other at the small of her back. Those were her skirts, pressing against her legs and pelvis as his body stepped closer to her. That was the feel of his arms under her fingertips. That was his tongue grazing the seam of her lip.

Tracey came too, slowly. She shook her head a bit, trying to clear the fog. She felt as though she was under a spell that seemed to have more power over her than the Imperius Curse ever did. She felt powerless to pull away and a part of her, she hated to admit, didn't want to.

However, she did. Her mind caught up with her as Blaise pressed his tongue into her mouth. For a moment, she found herself flicking the tip of her tongue against his, before shoving it back into his mouth and playing with it there. She smiled into the kiss, happy to having pushed him into submission and when she heard him moan, she stopped and pushed him away.

For a moment, she saw his look go from dazed to confused. She stared at him, trying to catch her breath and screaming in her head what the hell she was doing. She was behaving like any other stupid girl or hormonal teenager.

After that, she had merely wished Blaise a goodnight before walking, nearly running away. She'd exited the castle, and started roaming around the gardens, fuming at herself as she heard the students making out in the rose bushes. She felt ashamed that she could be in any way like them.

To say the least, it was a very odd year and tonight seemed to top it off. She had spent most the night, talking to Blaise Zabini who like herself had decided to attend the Yule Ball stag. Shockingly, she found him pleasant company. He wasn't one for talking much, and she rather liked that. And when he did open his mouth, it wasn't to say the same stupid things that seemed to come out of every other Slytherin's mouth.

Tracey had been an idiot. She wasn't sure how all that even happened. She decided to chalk it all up to how tired she was. She hadn't slept properly for weeks. She was having nightmares almost every other night. Bizarre ones that seemed to revolve around the Dark Lord, Death Eaters and a monster pursuing her.

Well not a monster. She wasn't quite sure what it was because all she could see was its shadow, which was nothing more than a big, vague figure that never seemed far behind her.

When she awoke most nights still panicking. She was afraid still, panting and soaked in her own sweat in bed. She'd even looked around, because she'd feel deep down that her life was in danger, only to find it was all in her mind. Like some fevered delusion and she'd have to calm her wildly beating heart.

Tracey sighed loudly and felt her shoulders sag. She felt so damn tired that she lifted her legs onto the stone bench she sat on and adjusted her skirts before carefully leaning on her side and laying down. The the bench pressed hard against her bones and her dress robes were a bit constricting on her chest, but she didn't care. She wanted to close her eyes and for at least just a moment forget everything. Forget where she was, forget who she was, forget Blaise and this stupid castle and her whole life with it.

Shutting her eyes, she tried desperately to silence every voice in her head. However, as her eyes shut, all she could see was Blaise. Although Draco and Pansy did everything in their power to be the center of attention, Tracey had noted Blaise before. Perhaps she hadn't ever paid him great mind, just as she didn't anyone else, but... there was something about Blaise.

She was certain, that she had never seen him smile, at anything. Nothing ever seemed to impress him. He wasn't exactly a quiet boy, but he didn't run his mouth off. He had a smug superiority about him that frankly, wasn't refreshing as that seemed to be a common aspect of Slytherins. Even Tracey knew herself to be a bit haughty on the occasion.

However, Blaise was different from the others. Tracey was never able to quite put a finger on it, but she had a sense that something about him, deeply resonated with something inside herself. Like there was something that made them the same, something that set them apart from the other Slytherins in their year.

It wasn't just that he was... well beautiful as there was no better word for it. Draco, as much of an insufferable, spoiled, prat that he was, was very handsome himself. But Blaise seemed to carry it with more dignity. He knew he was good-looking with his high cheekbones and fine features and slanty eyes, but he didn't make an unbearable case of it. He gave himself his privileged airs for it, but not in any outspoken or attention-seeking manner. For instance it was like he strutted around, grinning like an idiot about it.

Her minds eye, as hers remained peacefully shut, studied Blaise's image there. He was certainly quite the specimen to behold. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His skin, was impeccable, completely unblemished and soft. It seemed to carry warmth in it that she felt spread through her as his lips grazed hers.

Unknowingly Tracey captured her bottom lip between her teeth and whimpered in want. The sound seemed to rouse her and she shut her eyes tight and groaned. She didn't want to think about that. For the trillionth time that night, she wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

Closing her eyes, she turned so that her whole weight was not leaning on her shoulder, which was starting to pretest loudly at the harsh treatment of the rough stone that supported it. She settled to rest with her limbs twisted. While her legs to her hips were resting on her right side, she had turned her torso so that her shoulders were partially laying on the stone with her head turned up.

Opening her eyes slowly, she looked up and found that despite the fairy lights of the rose-bushes around her, that she could vaguely see the stars. For a moment her lips parted in a silent gasp; partly from surprise, partly from amazement.

She'd thought from taking Astronomy and not giving a shit about the subject for the last four years, that she'd be bored of stars. But simply looking at them, not trying to map their movement or identify a certain constellation, she found herself able to admire them as if with new eyes.

They were beautiful. Just tiny specs of light, seemingly suspended in air, staring down with a beauty they weren't sentient of; beauty that had outlived the human race a thousand times over. It made all her turbulent emotions catch in her throat.

They made her feel so tiny. From where she lay, the stars were mere little flecks of light that were spattered across the vast and immense sky. However, knowing that they were huge masses of gas, burning light years away... their light reaching across the universe to reach them on earth, made one really put things in perspective.

However, this knowledge only made a horrible ache inside her, one that always festered there beneath the surface, intensify. It felt hurtful to realize just how insignificant they all were. Tracey closed her eyes as her mind turned to Marie. In the grand scheme of things, thinking without involving her feelings, she knew that to the world it was probably no loss.

Marie wasn't a musical prodigy. Yes, she had a great talent for playing the violin and perhaps she had a great deal of promise. Perhaps one day she could've become a violinist of international renown, but... now that would never happen. Who knew what they were missing out on?

Tracey closed her eyes and searched inside of herself. She was even more insignificant than Marie. There was nothing that she loved with the passion that Marie had for playing the violin. At least, perhaps there were a few people that would remember Marie as a supremely talented musician, a star that had collapsed in and on itself, leaving a black hole in its stead, before she'd even got a chance to really shine.

Marie, for her weaknesses, was still so much better than she was and Tracey felt a sharp pang in her chest to acknowledge it, and gnashed her teeth for a moment. Unconsciously her hands drifted to rest over where her heart would be, as if it would soothe it. For a ghastly moment, she hated Marie with all her being because, even in death, Marie was someone she envied.

Tracey lived on the periphery. She went to classes, did her work... but she was all but invisible to everyone. Yes, she had a certain talent with magic, but there was nothing she loved with passion. She was nothing and no one. If she were to perish, simply vanish in this moment, no one would notice. No one would care. The one person that might have, was already gone.

A tear leaked from her eye and trekked from the corner of he eye to her hairline and ear, a bit to her discomfort. But her mind was too caught up in her thoughts to care. She wondered if this was the sense of hopelessness and uselessness that Marie had felt.

The ache she felt in her stomach was terrible. Was this what she fought against so much? Was this that dreadful loneliness that had driven her to rely so heavily on some insignificant being not worth the dirt on her shoes?

This thing inside her... she felt it creep up to her chest. It constricted her lungs and seemed to bind her heart and choke it. Soon, she felt it crawling into her throat and expanding. She felt it like bile in her mouth and clenched her teeth, fearful that it would come out in the form of anguished sobs. Her pride couldn't allow it and clamped down on it.

Tracey wished that Marie was there with her; Marie shared in that same darkness... she felt she should be here with her, to comfort her as she had done so many times in the past. However, when she opened her eyes and turned her head slightly, she caught the blurred lights that clung to the rose-bushes in her sight.

Tracey closed her eyes to not remember. She was a witch. Marie was a muggle. Even if Marie was still on the earth, she wouldn't be there with her. Not while she was at Hogwarts.

Her heart twinged painfully with a grief she was never sure she would be able to escape, as her mind protested. Even if Marie could not be at Hogwarts with her, she didn't care. She still would have preferred the world with Marie in it, than with her out of it.

This made at her gasp in pain, unable to contain the sobs and be able to breath at the same time. Closing her eyes, a river or tears flowed from her eyes, but she was able to steady her breathing and keep her crying silent.

Death couldn't change the way Tracey loved her sister. When Marie was alive, Tracey resented her for being the perfect child. It was resentment that couldn't be wiped away with her death, but Tracey could now, even if it pained her, admit that this was not Marie's fault. However, Marie was fully to blame for her death, and that anger she felt at her for killing herself was strong.

But deep down, Tracey loved Marie. Marie would always be her sister. And Tracey missed her with all her heart, even those parts polluted with anger and sentiments of hate. Marie had been the only person, who had made her feel happy, even if it was only for little chunks of time. It made Tracey wonder how she would ever feel happy at all again.

"Miss Davis, are you all right?" an alarmed voice suddenly called. Tracey felt her eyes snap open and she sat bolt-upright in shock, her heart thundering as it did when she suddenly woke from a nightmare. Looking up, through her teary gaze she noticed the unmistakeable figure of Professor Snape. Gasping, she turned away from him and dabbed quickly at her face, removing traces of her recent crying.

When she turned again to look at him, her sight now cleared, she nearly jumped at his proximity. She briefly wondered why he was standing so close when she suddenly looked up at his face to see that it still looked a bit concerned. "Yes, why?" she asked defensively as she stared up at him, her voice betraying her as it came out in a croak.

Severus raised a brow at her as she was blatantly lying to him. He'd seen her laying there, her brows deeply furrowed in clear anguish over shut eyes. He'd see the tears marring her face, making parts of it glisten in the fairy lights. However, his concern was evaporating. He'd thought for a moment that she had perhaps been sexually attacked, but he was now certain she wasn't. He sighed in relief at this. A sexual attack would enough trouble for the school as it was, without adding scrutiny of the entire wizarding world thanks to the tri-wizard tournament.

However, just to be sure he briefly peaked through her mind. Oddly enough, the memories at the forefront of her mind seemed to be about her sister. Getting a bit of clearer picture, he pulled out of her memories and merely stared at her.

He felt awkward, not sure what to do or say to her. Normally he would simply insult her and tell her to get lost as he would with most students, even those in his own House. However, knowing first hand what it is to lose someone you love, he knew what she was going through. And to her credit, Tracey Davis didn't go around moping, moaning or crying inconsolably. She hid her grief well for the most part. Hell, no one in the school but her Professors and the ghost even knew she had lost her sister in her first year.

Without being able to admit to himself, he sort of admired the girl for her fortitude of spirit. She was a loner and from his understanding she had lost the only tether she had to the world. Most others probably would have killed themselves. And yet here she was trudging on.

Tracey felt her face flush in embarrassment and turned away slightly. She felt ashamed, dreadfully so. She felt so stupid too. Of course he had seen her tears; saw her weak, like every other stupid fourteen year old girl. She was doubly mortified for it and now he was just standing there, staring down at her, probably laughing at her in his mind while basking in the glory of seeing her so downtrodden.

The silence dragged on between them, stretching and thickening around them, so that neither could move. Severus cursed in his mind, wondering why he kept just standing there, not saying anything and yet for all his berating of himself, he _still_ could not find any words to say. He didn't remember the last time he felt this awkward and it was highly uncomfortable. It made him feel like a teenager and he felt the familiar crawling under his skin for it.

Twisting her skirts in her hands, Tracey felt on pins and needles, waiting for a blow he was taking his sweet time with. He was probably savoring the way she was squirming. It heightened to the point where she debated between herself to just tell him to get out with it or not. However, feeling so emotionally on edge as she did, she couldn't for fear that her current state wouldn't allow his insult to just roll off her like nothing.

Being at her wits end, she did the one thing that, odd as it was, came to her mind. She pretended to faint. She felt stupid for it, but more than that she felt the pain of the hard bench scrap her arm and her head slightly bang on the hard stone. However, she tried to focus on not reacting outward to this physical pain and keeping her breathing even while her eyes were shut in a relaxed way.

For a moment, she heard Professor Snape asking calling her name for a few minutes, but she didn't react. Next, she felt him prodding at her and shaking her awake, but once more, she made no reaction and merely continued to pretend to be asleep.

After a few minutes she heard him sigh and mumble to himself what the hell he was supposed to do with her. After another silence, where she focussed hard on her hearing, she suddenly felt something solid and warm digging under her neck while another similar sensation happened to her knees. She almost wanted to gasp and open her eyes to see what was happening, when she told herself firmly that if she did she would give away the fact she was pretending.

She momentarily clenched her teeth while she made sure the rest of her limbs were dead, as she felt her body lifted. It was jostled briefly, at which a gasp did escape her throat, but she was able to pass it off as a sigh before lolling her head to the side and murmuring nonsensical things in her _sleep_.

She had more than an inkling that he had picked her up and was carrying her. Being as no one had ever carried her like this, since she was a child at least, it felt odd, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as lying on that hard bench had been. Besides that, she could see a bit of his body heat, and unconsciously she snuggled in closer to him and hummed in satisfaction, momentarily forgetting this was Professor Snape.

However, his warmth was inviting, and as she snuggled her head close to what she assumed was his chest, she felt him pleasantly soft and firm at the same moment. She could smell the scent of something earthy and yet very clean, like fresh laundry. It was oddly comforting and before she knew it, she was actually asleep, rocked by his footsteps.

**TBC...**

**A/n: Thoughts?**


	5. Bad Blood

**Difficult**

"_Blood will tell, but often it tells too much."_

_-_Don Marquis

_**Chapter 5: Bad Blood**_

Tracey woke in the Hospital Wing the morning following the Yule Ball. Apparently Professor Snape thought it fit, considering she had fainted. However, Tracey hadn't been concerned with this at the time. Nor did she imagine she would need be embarrassed around Snape, as she was quite sure he'd believed her fainting act and in the end, she had really fallen asleep anyway. No, what she was worried about was if things were suddenly going to change with Blaise simply because they had kissed.

However, she didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed when life returned to normal, or well as close as normal could be with foreign schools visiting and a Triwizarding tournament taking place at one's school with all the ruckus that accompanied it. She'd thought that perhaps that there would be some awkwardness between herself and Blaise, or … something of the sort, but what she got was absolutely nothing.

Unless him pretending that she didn't exist, counted. Although, she wasn't sure if he was pretending. And she was almost certain that his not talking to her, wasn't out of the norm. After all, before the Yule Ball they had rarely ever exchanged words. At least it was rare outside of class and it usually wasn't anything worth remembering.

Tracey thought that she should have expected this and wondered why on earth she felt at all bothered by it. She should be happy as clearly it meant there were no sentiments that that it meant nothing. However, she couldn't help looking at him and feeling a dreadful longing for what he'd made her feel that night and she hated herself all the more for it.

However, the death of Cedric Diggory and the news of the Dark Lord's return, at the end of the year, was rather sobering. It's massive implications put everything else out of her mind. Her sentiments and everything involving school that had no bearing on her growth as a witch, dropped infinitely lower on her priorities list.

But she wasn't sure what she should expect. Though she had read a lot on the previous rise to power of the Dark Lord, and of the previous war, she wasn't sure what they were supposed to do and being isolated as she was in the muggle world she felt more than a little concerned and she felt anxious to return to school where she had always felt safe, despite the attacks in her second year, and the madman breaking in twice in her third year and despite the fact that Cedric Diggory had died the previous year.

She wasn't sure why, but the fact that she didn't seem to exist to almost everyone at school, cocooned her into a strong sense of security. She felt that nothing could really happen to her, so long as she remained below everyone's radar. Unfortunately, she didn't get off to a grand start.

Normally, being invisible wasn't much of a task for Tracey. Somehow she seemed to excel at it. She supposed that probably had a lot to do with the fact that she didn't make it a point to really talk to anyone, to answer questions in class, or otherwise catch a Professors attention when there were others around to watch.

However, she took her trip to Diagon Alley as a bad omen for the coming school year. She and her mother, had almost finished with all her school shopping, but for one thing. They had to make a stop by Madam Malkins as she had inexplicably had quite the stretch during the summer, growing three to four inches. Though, that didn't make her very tall.

When they walked in, the shop appeared to be empty but for one tall, slim and extremely beautiful black woman who was tracing her long fingered hands along the fabric of a set of Robes on display. At Tracey's entrance with her mother, she looked at and gave them a brief glance before looking away with an air boredom. However, at another moment she turned back and looked at Tracey for a moment, as if surveying her.

Tracey didn't like this attention and merely turned to look at Madan Malkin who was walking over to her and her mother. "Hello dearie. New robes for Hogwarts?"

"Yes, she does. She has also outgrown her cloaks," her mother responded for her. Madam Malkin looked at her mother and nodded before reaching for Tracey and walking her over to the back of the shop and pushing her up on a stool. However, as she looked up, she noted that Blaise Zabini was already standing on a stool there.

Immediately on seeing him, she felt her cheeks flush in displeasure as her stomach became all knotted. As he had his back to her, he didn't see her immediately. He was looking down and arranging his new set of robes. When he looked up to see how they fit, he seemed to catch her, staring at him in the mirror.

"Come on dearie, move along, I'm sure to have many more customers soon," Madam Malkin said, pushing her up on the stool next to the one that Blaise was getting back up on. The look on his face was hard to read, but he seemed at a bit of a loss for words.

"Hello, Tracey," he said, tight-lipped when they stood up next to each other. To Tracey it seemed almost as though he didn't want anyone to hear. However, Tracey merely mumbled a greeting as she looked to see what her mother was doing. She was glad that she was standing near the front of the shop, probably having learned from last year that it was best to leave the matters of clothing herself to her daughter. Tracey prayed to any entity that her mother would merely stay there and not call attention to the fact she was a muggle.

"How was your summer?" Blaise asked coolly. Tracey turned and looked at him, trying her best not to move now Madam Malkin was attending to her and sticking pins along the hem of the robes she had on.

Tracey wasn't sure what to respond. As far as she was concerned, her summer had been very long and boring. She didn't exactly plan on telling Blaise that her mother forced her to take up a summer job to help pay for her school supplies. Nor did she plan on telling him that when she was home, she locked herself in her room in order not to to have to deal with her mother, who she felt damn well needed a life and should start dating.

"Great. Yours?" she replied tartly, hoping Madam Malkin would hurry along.

"Splendid," he replied tight-lipped as well. Tracey once more looked at him and found his gaze was focused on the tall, sleek woman she had seen in the shop earlier. Tracey cast a glance at her and saw that she was perusing the shop.

The woman had long, curly hair that reached just past her shoulders. She wore a set of black dressrobes that seemed to fit her slender body like a glove to about her knees where it fanned out a bit. Pinned to her head was a small hat with a veil on it that covered her right side. She had high cheekbones and full lips painted a very light pink that went well with her light and clear complexion.

At that moment, the woman turned and strode over in a brisk walk. It made Tracey wonder how she managed with the skirt she wore. Although, she supposed it had a lot to do with her very long legs. "Blaise, what do you think of this for my wedding?" she said as she looked at him, holding a set of silver robes.

Tracey turned and looked at Blaise with a surprised look and saw his face turn a bit red. The woman looked up and upon noticing his flushed appearance furrowed her sleek brows over her beautiful eyes. Tracey was amazed by the color of them. She had never seen a set like them. They were simply the most luminescent set of hazel eyes she had ever seen. The brown in them were so light it looked like flecks of gold against lime green.

"Wipe that look off your face, do you know how much work I had to do so this wedding could be ready before you went off to school?" she snapped. Tracey almost wanted to laugh as she realized that this must be his mother. She had heard rumors in her house, nasty ones that Draco liked to tell about Blaise's mum being a gold-digger who killed every husband she had and took his money.

Tracey still felt that these were nasty lies, thinking that it was impossible for so many men to keep marrying a woman whose husbands mysteriously kept dying. However, looking at Miss Zabini, she knew how men could be so stupid. She was young, exceedingly beautiful, and had a body that most women would kill for.

Blaise didn't say anything and merely got off the stool, took the robes in hand and stalked off to a fitting room to change. Tracey watched in interest, however, forced herself to look away when Mrs. Zabini suddenly turned her gaze to her.

"You are an exceptionally pretty girl, I see you go to Hogwarts. I suppose all the boys must fall over themselves for you," Mrs. Zabini stated coolly. It took Tracey a moment to realize that Mrs. Zabini was talking to her and so she gave her a quizzical look ,wondering what she was playing at. "What's your name?"

"Tracey Davis," she replied, feeling uncomfortable. Mrs. Zabini flashed her a smug and self-pleased smile that Tracey knew all too well as she had seen it many times before on Blaise's face. In fact, at that moment the resemblance between mother and son was so striking that Tracey wondered how she hadn't seen it as soon as she walked into the shop.

"I thought so. Blaise has spoken a lot about you this summer, couldn't help himself," Mrs. Zabini said, causing Tracey to blush. She was so confused and she supposed that her shock showed on her face because Blaise's mother went on. "I assumed that you must've been a real sight, to deserve his rapture."

"Rapture?" Tracey asked. The word came out more derisively than she meant it to, and it caused Mrs. Zabini to look a bit taken at back. She arched one of her beautiful sleek brows in an intrigued fashion. "I think you must've not heard right or misinterpreted him. Blaise and I hardly talk. We're in the same house but all he ever talks to me about is classwork."

Mrs. Zabini merely nodded at this. "No I'm quite sure I haven't made a mistake. Dear girl, you have a lot to learn. If I tell you you're beautiful, you don't question me. I don't flatter people, either falsely or truthfully; it is a waste of my time and irritates my vanity. And if I tell you Blaise likes you it's because a mother always knows. And I will tell you this, because Blaise is my world and I don't plan on losing him so soon to another; men are only good for one thing, and that's what you can get out of them and you only invest in them your charms, never your heart."

Tracey furrowed her brow at this wondering what on earth that meant. Not that she was so stupid as to not understand, but she was confused as to where this advice was coming from. And what did she mean that she didn't want to lose Blaise to someone else?

However, she didn't want to contemplate this as Madam Malkins told her she was done and to take off the robes and head to the counter. Tracey was all too happy to get away from Mrs. Zabini and her odd and suspicious advice.

If she thought that was the end of that, she was wrong. Though she couldn't stop thinking of that for the rest of the holidays, which wasn't long at all, she was rather surprised when as she was making her way back to her compartment from the loo as she suddenly felt someone grab her by the arm and turn her.

Startled, she looked up and found Blaise was standing before her, leaning into her. He had backed her into the panes of a compartment and pressed one of his hands over her head as he gazed seriously down into her eyes. "Tracey, I don't know what all my mother said to you and that really doesn't matter, but if you tell anyone-"

"Are you threatening me, Blaise?" Tracey asked, scowling at him. If it weren't for what he was saying, she would have been hyperventilating from having him so near, or at the very least trembling. "With what exactly?"

A look of hurt seemed to cross Blaise's face as he stared down at her. Tracey studied his very fine features, noted the way his brows furrowed over his heavy-lidded eyes as they searched her face. It was a painful look that was a mixture of regret and something more... something she felt but couldn't identify as she looked at him.

Almost immediately she felt her breathing coming in shallow and quick gasps. She wasn't sure it was out of anger, or his close proximity, but her heart was thundering with excitement. She nearly flinched when she felt his free hand touch her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

"You look even more stunning when you're angry," he said in a low tone, sounding hypnotized as his eyes kept roaming over her face. He shook his head and turned his gaze to her eyes, and he was suddenly glaring at her. The hand that had been touching her cheek suddenly dropped to her neck and grabbed it, though he did not squeeze it. "Your mum is a muggle and there are no pureblood Davis's. At best you're nothing but a half-blood, don't think your invisible act will save you from the others if they were to find out about your extremely questionable blood status."

Tracey felt the blood rushing to her face, but from anger as she glared up at him. She grit her teeth as her stomach tightened in fear, however, she was overwhelmed by the hate she felt for him at that moment.

A clearing of the throat broke the two Slytherins form their glaring match. Turning, they found a red-head girl standing there, staring at them with a raised brow. Tracey grabbed Blaise by arm and pulled him down the corridor, brushing past the girl she was quite sure was one of the Weasley's. When they were a ways away she turned and slammed Blaise against a wall.

"What makes you think I would tell anyone about your mum, I hardly speak to anyone, and meeting your mum was no a great revelation or anything to brag about. It was an insignificant instance that I have forgotten all about," Tracey said as she glared at Blaise, standing less than a foot away form him with her arms crossed over her chest. "And if you tell anyone about my mum, I'll tell them you're nothing but a farce. You like to play the dignified pureblood who hates anyone that is less than that when the truth his that you'd _melt_ for me. How do you think that will go over with everyone?"

Blaise looked furious as he looked down at her menacingly, his nostrils flaring. "I DO NOT!" He hissed.

Tracey wasn't sure why she had said that. Deep down, a part of her believed it to be true and his over the top reaction seemed to prove to her. Therefore, she felt in full rights to smirk at him. "You try to fight it, but sometimes being near me makes you too weak, doesn't it?" Tracey said, to which he merely pursed his lips. Tracey backed up a bit and tapped her index finger to her chin in wonder. "But you showed aversion to being near me before you knew about my mum. I'm starting to think you're afraid of physical attraction to girls. Why? Is it because of your mum?"

Blaise opened and shut his mouth, at a loss for what to say. He felt angry beyond reason, and yet felt incapable to say anything to her. The words were simply not there, even his thoughts were formless.

Tracey studied his face and furrowed her brow as she nodded. It was all making sense to her. "Yes... I'd imagine your mum has turned you into quite a misogynist. You must think all women are like her and only after men for all their money."

"Don't talk about my mum like that, you don't know her," Blaise threatened, stepping closer to her as his hands balled to fist beside him.

"Oh, I'm not judging her. I rather think your mother is brilliant. Because you're whole gender only want one thing from a woman, and for us to give our hearts to a man is the height of stupidity," Tracey said as she glared up at Blaise, causing him to back away from her and stare down at her in confusion. "Blaise, I have no interest in you or your mum, or of speaking to anyone. And if you tell anyone about my mum, I will come after you and make you hurt in ways you never imagined, understand?"

Blaise nodded, causing Tracey to nod her head once before turning and starting down the corridor. "Tracey?" he called. Tracey paused and grit her teeth before glancing back at him. "Aren't you too young to be bitter towards men?"

Tracey scowled at him, and watched as he smirked smugly at her. "I don't hate men, I just know better than to trust them," Tracey said, preparing to turn away. However, she didn't get a chance before Blaise was talking again.

"Why? Did someone break your heart?" he asked, not looking quite so smug this time.

"I'm not so stupid as to let a boy attempt it," Tracey replied coldly.

"If not a love interest, than perhaps your father. What, daddy didn't love you?" he asked, his smirk returning.

Tracey felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. Her expression became unfathomable as she wondered how to respond. The man her mother would have her believe was her father, she knew in her heart not to be. And he hadn't even been around to raise her as his own, so she could feel he was her father if only just a little.

Her biological father, he was a complete mystery to her. For some reason or other, he was never there. She'd thought of him more than she cared for, wondering if he was even alive, and if he were, where was he. She wondered if he even knew she existed, or if he would even care if he did.

However, she had dreams of him. She dreamt of a man, in silhouette. From his figure, she could see he was a tall man of considerable build. He had big shoulders and very muscular arms. His shadow, his aura, it was ominous. His voice as she heard him laugh cruelly in her dreams, was deep and rich. He often whispered in her dreams when they were fading with the dawn, "_Blood of my blood, my child, I will come for you_."

She always woke, shivering. Often chilled to the bones. His promise felt more like an threat then a promise. She wasn't sure why it scared her so, it was just a dream after all. However, she often had oddly foretelling dreams. And as much as the dream terrorized her, a part of her hoped against her better judgement to know who her father was, and where she came from. She had a strange sensation that until she knew her origin, she would be lost. How could she feel complete and find herself until she knew that part of her that she belonged to?

"And what would know know of a fathers love? How many fathers have you buried, Blaise?" she asked, looking over at him. Blaise looked as though she had struck him and she could see the ire building in him as once more he tightened his fist. "Don't fuck with me Blaise, because I'll always win," Tracey said, giving him a last disparaging look before turning and walking away.

But for all her bravado, she actually felt rather sick and weak.

**TBC...**

**A/n: Please review!**


	6. Tremble

**Difficult**

"_That she can make a young man tremble!"_

-Gregory Maguire, _Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister_

_**Chapter 6: Tremble**_

Being OWLs year, Tracey was trying desperately hard to put all her effort into her studies. It was a task that, being her lonesome self, usually took no effort. However, this year was turning out to be quite different, Umbridge aside, and she couldn't get a few things out of her head.

For one Mrs. Zabini's affirmation that she was extraordinarily pretty. Coming from someone as vain and haughty as Mrs. Zabini, how could she doubt her? Besides, with one glance at the woman, you had to know that when it came to beauty, the woman knew what she was talking about. And besides all that, she seemed to recall a lot less criticism this past summer from her mother on the matter of her looks. Perhaps they had improved without her knowing?

The second matter that she couldn't get out of her head, was Blaise or rather his physical response to her. She'd known it with certainty that everything he was trembled when she was too near, though why she was so sure she didn't know. Neither did she really care to ponder it. She just chucked it all to her particularly intuitive self.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks to months, she started to realize that Blaise Zabini was not the only boy she could affect. Through separate and somewhat sparse incidents, she became more and more aware of how sometimes when she passed, boys would turn their heads to look at her. That on some occasions, when she dropped something, or was in need of something, a boy would always be there either blushingly giving her aid, or doing so with their most charming grin.

For the most part, she gave no thought to these incidents when they occurred, but when looking back on them and finding so many... she started to think of things she'd never really pondered before. She'd always thought, that for some reason of other, boys seemed to have a very strange effect on girls, especially when they were very good-looking. She'd even felt if first hand when she was near Blaise, and she tried to avoid it as much as possible.

But she'd never stopped to think that girls had the same effect on boys, and perhaps to a much greater degree. This newfound discovery made her feel... more than a little intrigued. It gave her a sense of power that she'd never felt before. Ever.

Always, she'd thought of herself as just another leaf, drifting in the harsh winds of fall. Though willful as she was she resisted as best she could the normal demands of life, she still felt as though she had very little to no say in her life. For years she had fought and resisted her mother, and it got her nowhere. For years she had abstained from life at Hogwarts and somehow it had managed to grasp her in it and hold sway over her.

Now... there was this. This newfound form of magic that could not be taught in classes. She had a inkling that if her mother were another sort of woman, or were able to be around more than she could be since she was eleven and started school, that she could have learned from her. But here she was, having to find it on her own and figure out how to master it, and what if anything it could get her.

However, she wasn't sure if it was worth pursuing. After all, what did sway over boys matter if they could do nothing for her? She already din't participate with her classmates or matters at school. As Mrs. Zabini implied, you only waste your charms on men based on what they can give you.

This only meant elevation in status... and gaining obscene amounts of money. At school the only forms of status that matter are academic, and popularity, neither which she cared for. Although, her academics did fine of her own accord. As for money, trips to Hogsmead where the only place to reap the benefits of it. Why would she bother for such meager pickings?

Besides, what did bartering her charms really mean? Just some attention and flirting? Kissing? A bit of physical contact? Or...

At fifteen, she wasn't stupid, she knew about sex and its mechanics. She'd even explored her own anatomy a bit. Frankly, touching her breast really did nothing for her, and she tried every which way she could think of to touch them and she felt nowhere near the thrill she did when Blaise was close to her or when they'd kissed that one time.

As for her vulva, she'd felt rather awkward touching it, and didn't care for its wet consistent. Besides all that, it felt a little odd. Not wholly unpleasant, but nowhere near orgasmic either.

She felt that she had to be missing something, but for the time being she wasn't really interested in figuring it out when there were other matters to be concerned about. Like her OWLs, or the Dark Lord's return, though many of he House mates pretended that he wasn't back when they all knew he was.

With the coming of January, a whole other concern emerged for Tracey. While the school seemed a bit alarmed and concerned about the mass break-out from Azkaban, Tracey was more so. Though, she didn't know why. It wasn't really much to do with all the Death Eaters that escaped, but something a lot more specific... something Tracey couldn't put her finger on that filled her with dread.

All Tracey knew was that it occurred after she saw the page of the Daily Prophet with all the pictures of the Death Eaters who escaped. While looking through them, when she got a point in the page, her eyes glazed over and she felt a spike of fear shoot up her spine. She felt the grip of that same panic and terror she felt when she slipped into one of her nightmares. Those nightmares that made her blood to turn into ice, and cold sheets of sweat to sprout from her pores.

For the rest of the day, she hadn't been able to concentrate and her nightmares reemerged that night, but all the worse. That large, dark silhouette, calling for the blood in her veins returned to haunt her dreams and chased away sound sleep. She tossed and turned for weeks, barely able to keep her eyes shut throughout the night and more than once, waking on the floor, having fallen out of bed.

Some night's, she couldn't stand simply laying there in the dark, hoping sleep would overtake her when her mind ran rampant with thoughts of her dreams as she tried to regain control of her breathing and racing heart. Sometimes she wanted to walk around the castle, thinking perhaps exhausting her limbs would make her have a deep and dreamless sleep, but she wasn't stupid enough to do it under Umbridge's reign of terror.

So she settled for merely pacing around the deserted common room, which luckily was rather long. She rather even took to sitting in different parts of the room, or laying down on the floor, or atop the few tables and trying to distinguish with her eyes the light fixtures. The common room, in the complete darkness, as the common room was always rather dark, and being devoid of people, it seemed a very different place.

Tracey wasn't sure she cared much for the dim and slightly green ambiance it usually had when vaguely lit. She much less cared for the company in it. Honestly, it was a real snake pit and she abhorred being part of it.

Being winter, she couldn't usually spend a great deal of time in the common room because it was cold. However, after a few days, she found the fire still lit when she came down. On her first several days, it was long dead, and at times only some embers struggled to remain lit, teeny trails of red on the logs. She was surprised when she saw the roaring fire, but grateful too as she was able to sit before it and remain warm.

For the following several nights, she was able to stay up longer, due to the fact she didn't have to flee the warmth and only went to bed when the fire started dying away. She supposed she could always take out her wand and make it last longer, but she didn't feel like bothering. Besides, she didn't want to overindulge in staying up too late.

In those quiet, restless nights, there was nothing Tracey wanted to think of. She wanted desperately to escape her dreams and all thoughts of her family and who she was, whoever that was. However, she was unsure of how to do that in the dark, where there was nothing else to do. The fire... she thought it was kind of nice to watch.

Sometimes, she caught herself staring at it, and thinking she saw vague shapes that reminded her of something, much the way people saw shapes in the clouds. Once or more than once, she thought she saw the face of a man, a man she was sure she'd seen somewhere before, but she did not know where. However, in the next moment she'd brush aside and say it didn't matter or was just her imagination.

Sometimes, she thought she saw a flower. Once, there was a violin. But more than anything, she saw wisps or sparks. There were rare the occasions she saw anything worth remembering and she always lost interest long before she went to bed or the fire started dying. There was only so long fire can interest a person, unless its doing something interesting, like drawing a shape or devouring something.

However, this fire was tamed, Tracey thought. She felt kind of sorry for it, the way it was caged there. And sometimes she thought she was crazy or silly to even think it. After all, it was fire, not something sentient.

One night, finally sick of her dreams, Tracey took out her wand and thought to draw on the fire and make it entertain her. Force it to make her forget. In time, she was able to manipulate it into shapes with some practice, concentration and hard work. However, when she caught what her mind wanted to see, she felt furious. It was like no matter what she did, there was no escaping her thoughts.

She felt so angry in that moment, that she wanted to chuck something into the fire and her wand was the only thing at hand. She had just risen her hand, and she felt that probably she would have done it too, if she hadn't suddenly heard someone's footsteps. She turned just in time to see a large and dark figure, towering over one of the high-back chairs around the fire.

For a moment, her heart started pounding in her ribs, the shadow reminding her of her dream, but then her eyes focused. The fire, barely reached him, but it somewhat lit his features and she saw familiar dark eyes. They looked like black pebbles against a grayish surface.

She lowered her wand hand to her side, though her body remained tense. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly, though surprisingly very softly. She wondered if that was because of the hour, general dark and the quiet. It was an odd thing, but often silence required respect from all others and was not broken rudely by even the most authoritative of people. "You are supposed to be in bed at this hour."

"I couldn't sleep," Tracey responded, wondering if she should stand. She felt she should given sitting had her at a disadvantage. However, she supposed if she stood it wouldn't make a great deal of difference. After all, Snape was taller than her and would still have the advantage because of it. Besides that, standing would be like an admission to wrong-doing and frankly, she didn't think she was doing any wrong.

"Having nightmares?" he asked sneeringly.

"Yes as a matter of fact," she responded, turning back to the fire. She felt that he wouldn't expect her to do that, and felt it would unsettle him.

"That's too bloody bad, get back to bed," he snapped, irritatedly. He hadn't expected the damn proud brat to just admit it like she was not embarrassed at all by the fact!

"Why? I'm not doing anything, just sitting here," Tracey said, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them before resting her chin on them. She wanted to hunker down to make a point that she wasn't moving.

Tracey never felt like challenging Snape, but tonight, she didn't feel like blindly abiding either. He'd always been the one to take away her only comfort, she didn't want to have to give in again. Besides that, she was rather irritated by her dreams and sleep deprivation. It was like her dreams in and of themselves were just another proof of how very little control she had over her life.

Well, she didn't want that anymore. She wanted some control and she felt that at fifteen and on the verge of sixteen, she damn well had a right to decide what time she went to bed at.

"I wasn't asking, Miss Davis. Rules are rules," he said, his tone of voice becoming murderous. However, Tracey wondered why she should care. What could he possibly do to her?

"Rules shouldn't be followed blindly and without question. And they certainly shouldn't if they are absurd, much like this and especially those from the _High Inquisitor,_" she said coolly while saying Umbridge's made-up position with derision.

"The rule is for your protection as well as to ensure you don't get into trouble. NOW. GET. TO. BED. Don't make me repeat myself," he stated, still not raising his voice too much.

"I'm just sitting here, what trouble can I get myself into? And I have my wand, I can protect myself. I'm NOT going to bed, sir. If you must ensure yourself that I'm not doing anything, than by all means, chaperone," Tracey said, not willing to budge and signalling with one hand to the high-backed chairs around her. She was not willing to budge. If he wanted her to go to bed, he would have to force her.

For his part, Severus was greatly irritated. He couldn't believe the girl had the gall to disobey him and on top of that, tell him what to do. He didn't think that in all his years teaching that a student had ever had the nerve to do such a thing. He was really at a loss. Especially when it was this pint-sized witch that was shorter than most her age.

Severus felt he had three options here. He could threaten her to go to bed with some harsh punishment, but considering the stubborn mood she was in and the degree of boldness she was showing, he felt it would be ineffective. The second was to remove her himself magically or forcefully. Forcefully would probably give way to awkwardness and magically, he always tried to keep from doing magic on a student, especially something that could be considered an attack, unless it was dire. This certainly wasn't dire.

The third was to sit down. He was sure that if he were to do so, Tracey Davis would soon be overcome by her teenage nerves, feel awkward and then quickly remove herself. Though, Severus loathed that doing so would seem like he was giving in to her, he felt that really it was his only choice. It seemed the most effective and ultimately less troublesome. So he sat in a chair, where he was sure she'd see him out of her periphery.

Once he sat, he noted her relax her stance a bit. Though he felt odd staring at her, he felt he needed to to ensure that she would feel awkward as quickly as possible. Together, they sat in silence for several minutes. Severus locking his gaze on her, but not really seeing her while Tracey stared at the fire once more.

She was kind of glad Snape had appeared, as at least a distraction. She had been about to throw her wand in the fire in a fit of rage. What would she have done if he had not interrupted her? Would she have thrown it in? Would she have been able to save the wand before the fire devoured it? What if she hadn't been able to? How would she get another wand? One that worked properly for her when the wand is supposed to pick you?

"Professor Snape, what happens if you lose your wand or break it or something. At school I mean, while you're a student?"

Severus wasn't expecting her to talk, and her question seemed to come out of nowhere. However, he didn't see any harm in answering. "Your parents mail you a new one," he stated drily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But what if it doesn't work. I mean, your wand picks you, doesn't it? Like its destined for you while others don't work so well," Tracey said, turning to look at him, coming out of her stance to be able to turn properly and look at him. She placed one of her palms down she could could turn her torso to look at him while she let her legs fall to the side and placed her other hand on her lap.

Severus felt uncomfortable with her sudden attention. Not to mention the view he had of her from where he sat thanks in part to her pajamas. Tracey's pajamas consisted of a white cotton, spaghetti strap shirt that showed off her shoulders, arms and a bit of her upper chest. Her pajama bottoms were also white cotton and apparently striped vertically with blue and purple lines. They had a blue drawstring made of satin and she wore the waist of them a bit low on her hips. And her shirt hem and didn't seem to quite connect with her bottoms so he could see a bit of skin on her waist. Hard to miss with the way the fire lit up her skin.

This was more skin, than he had seen on her before, considering school robes, were extremely conservative. This is not counting her dress robes for the Yule Ball. Besides, though her dressrobes had allowed him to see her shoulders and neck and arms completely unhindered, her body was swallowed up by her her skirts. Now from where he sat, he could see more of her lithe shape. And contrary to beliefe, the girl did have _some_ shape to her. She wasn't a stick figure.

"You just have to make do with what you are sent while school's in session. You could always purchase a better one once you have returned home," he explained, turning to look at the fire and pushing aside all his previous observations. He was relieved when the girl merely muttered an _oh_ and turned her body to face the fire once more.

"Professor Snape, could you not sleep either?" she asked as she turned once more to look at him. This time, only turning her face a bit. Now that she had fixed her legs so she was sitting indian style, she didn't have to turn so much.

Severus turned to glare at the girl wondering why all the question all of a sudden. "I'm here to keep an eye on you, not to play 21 questions," he snapped at her.

"It was just a question, no need to snipe," Tracey said with a roll of her eyes. She turned and looked at the fire and sat back, putting her hands behind her to lean back a bit. She tilted her head, unconsciously exposing the column of her throat to him, in order to rest her head on her shoulder. "I just haven't seen you here before, and you're still dressed, just curious," Tracey said with a shrug.

She didn't think she was asking too many questions. She had only asked two and that was because they had crossed her mind. Not like she wanted to make conversation with him. She sighed, wondering why she had even bothered. She should know better, really.

Severus didn't say anything to this and turned his attention back to the fire, wondering why he was starting to feel uncomfortable. After a moment, he turned his eyes back to Tracey to see if there was any indication that she would get up soon and go to bed. However, as he studied the expression on her face, he grimaced slightly.

Her brows seemed relaxed. Her gaze was fixed steadily on the still leaping flames. Her lips expressionlessly fixed straight. The only play on her features was that of light and shadows that danced on it do to the dancing flame before her.

They were interesting to watch reflected on her face. To see how parts suddenly became highlighted. Sparkling in her eyes one moment, before jumping on the bit of moisture on her pink lips. One moment, touching a cheekbone, before brushing her hair. Raven hair, which he'd never noticed before, had quite a bit of shine to it. Parts of it looking like spun silver in flicking light.

He'd also never noticed how soft it looked. It fell now, more to one side do to its layered cut and biased parting and touched her shoulders and the top of her spine lightly. Her back, was in the dark, but his eyes could make out the tips of her hair touching her.

The girl looked gorgeous. Why was he noticing this?

Severus turned angrily to look at the fire, wondering what was wrong with him. He'd never taken this much notice of his students before. Yes there were times where he distinguished which would break hearts and which would be lucky to ever know affection. But he'd never caught himself looking or thinking on one's looks more than just in cursory glance.

Why was he with this girl? She wasn't even _that_ eye-catching! He'd seen girls, plenty, that were more attractive in one way or other. He'd seen even a greater amount, that were more developed. And yet none of them, had ever tickled his fancy in the least. What made Davis different?

Severus shook his head imperceptibly. He told himself she wasn't. That he was only tired. He needed sleep. He was no longer gonna play this game.

"I'm tired, I should get some sleep before classes," Tracey suddenly said, yawning as she stood up. "Good night, sir," Tracey said, walking away before Severus even realized what hit him.

**TBC...**


	7. No End to Cruelty

**Difficult**

"_I guess when your heart gets broken you sort of start to see cracks in everything. I'm convinced that tragedy wants to harden us and our mission is never to let it.__"_

- (Couldn't find source, one site said it was Plato's.)

_**Chapter 7: No End to Cruelty**_

It was April first. Tracey considered in her early years to hate the day. Personally she found no joy in practical jokes, particularly not any that were played on her. She was sure though, that after April 1, 1996, that there would never be one worse.

The day started off like any other. Lately, her dreams had gotten worse to the point that she woke in tears, or screaming. Her dorm-mates had complained of being woke by her shrieks and all the help that Professor Snape provided to her was to tell her to cast a silencing charm around her bed so as to not disturb her dorm-mates.

Like any other day, she headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, even though she rarely ate anything more than half a piece of buttered toast and a bit of some milk to swallow it down with. Unlike most days, she was surprised to receive an OWL. And not just any OWL, for the letter she received arrived from an owl she knew belonged to the Malfoys.

Something she didn't know from previous observation, but because Draco happened to waltz over muttering about stupid bird-brains not finding the correct recipient. After snatching the letter from the birds leg, and checking the envelop he exclaimed "OH, it is for you," after which he reluctantly handed her the letter and lingered by her, curious to see what this was about.

Tracey was as just as stunned and stupefied as Draco. She took the letter from him and stared at it. Her name was written there, in very haphazard, sharp but still stunning calligraphy. She tore the letter open, wondering what it was about, and so curious that she didn't even pay mind to Draco who was hovering over her and trying to read a letter addressed to her, something that would have otherwise vexed her greatly.

_My only child,_

_It makes you all the more precious. I'm glad you're as beautiful as I dreamed you'd be. You will be home to me soon, where you've belonged all along. _

_With fatherly affection,_

_R. L._

Tracey felt a shiver run down her spine to read this and her hair stand on end. She felt her pulse, beat hard in fear. She read the letter over and over, not understanding. The words sunk in, but she didn't want them to take meaning. She was afraid of what the letter could mean. _Come home_? She was afraid of hoping that it was from a father, who actually cared to have her in his life.

Tracey shook her head. This wasn't real, she told herself and recalled the date. Yes, it was a joke. A cruel joke. One that probably came, from the owls owner. Standing, she turned and looked at Draco, glaring at him.

"Do you think this is funny?" she snapped at him, balling the letter in her fist and shaking it in his face. Draco looked taken aback by this. "Is this your idea of a joke? If it _is_, it's not very funny!" she said, raising her voice louder by the syllable, shoving him before reaching in her robes for her wand and pointing it at him as he got his balance and glared at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about! If I were, do you think I'd use my own bloody owl and point out to you its mine?" he asked, turning a bit red and his hair falling out of place. However, he wouldn't come near her as her wand was pointing at him.

"Yes, I do, because you're a fucking moron. You'd probably do it to gloat and think you could get away with it," Tracey said, shoving her wand at his throat. However, at that moment, she felt someone sweep over to both of them, grab them by the arms and drag them out of the hall and towards and empty classroom, though she struggled all the way, trying to get lose and get a good shot at Draco.

"What is the meaning of this? And put down your wand!" Snape hissed at them once the three of them were behind closed doors. However, Tracey wouldn't listen, so he snatched her wand from her, hard thing to do considering her grip on the thing. After he had her wand out of her hand, though, Tracey still would not stay still. He had to keep hold on her to keep her from launching herself at Draco, all the while he had already started with his version.

"I don't know, she suddenly started yelling at me. For no reason! She thinks I'm playing a joke on her just because she got a weird letter. Psycho!" Draco prattled on, spitting that last bit directly at Tracey. Snape meanwhile was standing with his back partially towards Draco as he stood between the two teens, facing Tracey to hold her back.

"It was your fucking owl, who else would use it? Not like your bloody parents know me, besides there a little old to be pranking, aren't they?" Tracey said venomously, instants away from literally spitting at him.

"They're not the only ones with access to our owls, we have family visiting," he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away. At this, Tracey stopped, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Who?" she asked suspiciously, still unwilling to believe that this could be real.

"I'm not telling you, that's none of your concern," Draco huffed arrogantly.

Severus paused and looked between the two wondering why Tracey was so upset about the letter and intrigued to hear it came from the Malfoy manor. He turned and looked at Draco thinking about his reluctance to speak of his "visiting" family.

Of course, he knew who he meant. Three Lestranges who were recently out of Azkaban and who had nowhere to go, one of which was blood related to the Lady of Malfoy manor. When the two remaining men of the Lestrange line were incarcerated, the last of the Lestranges really, their properties had been seized by the Ministry all those years ago. Though they did still have vaults full of wealth they could not access them due to their current status as escaped convicts.

"Miss Davis, what letter are you on about?" Severus asked, staring down at the girl. Tracey wasn't sure why she handed it over. Maybe she thought he'd help shed light on the subject.

Severus took the letter, and sighed, seeing he had to straighten it out, as she had balled it up good in her fist. It didn't take him long to read it, but he felt his stomach twist nastily upon reading it. He read it through the second time carefully, making sure he wasn't hallucinating. Seeing that it wasn't the case, he grimaced.

However, before he could gather his thoughts, the door opened, causing them all to look. Standing there was Professor Dumbledore, looking grim. "Ah, you're both here, excellent," he said his tone indicating that it wasn't really all that excellent, as he stepped into the room,. He turned and looked at Draco Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy, would you leave me alone with Professor Snape and Miss Davis?"

Draco, relieved to be able to get out, nodded and left as quickly as he could. However, he didn't say anything at all to Professor Dumbledore, who closed the door as soon as he was out.

Severus wondered why Dumbeldore seemed to want to speak to him and Tracey together. It seemed odd. After the note, it made him feel even more apprehensive. Especially when he saw the look on Dumbledore's face. It was not cheery, something he managed even in these dark times.

For her part, Tracey didn't like this either. The only time Dumbledore had ever sought her at all, or had spoken to her, it was because her sister had passed away. Being nobody as she was, she couldn't imagine that this boded well.

"Miss Davis," he said, stepping a bit closer to the two Slytherins, who were standing somewhat closer then he would think appropiate. However, considering the news he was about to deliver, he easily pushed this aside. "I received a letter this morning, a couple days later than it would have arrived under different circumstances, that your mother has passed away. It causes me great pain to have to inform you this."

Tracey felt as though all the air had been squeezed out of her lungs and for a moment her head twitched to the side, as if to negate what was said to her. Suddenly the air around her felt thick and hazy around her. She tried not to let the worse penetrate her thoughts and plague them.

Slowly, she started shaking her head, not realizing she was doing this. "No... no...no... it april fools... this is a joke... just a joke... a bad joke, like the letter," she said to herself as she shook her head and tried to breath. She kept repeating this to herself, over and over, as if the more she said it, the more she would believe it.

Severus tensed beside her at this news after inhaling sharply while he continued to frown. This couldn't be a coincidence, he thought. Tracey received a letter, which could still be a hoax, but more than likely not, from her father. A man he'd believed up till now was the man who'd committed suicide, only to discover that her father could be either Rabastan or Rodolphous Lestrange. Both which were Death Eaters, recently escaped from Azkaban.

To him, it didn't seem farfetched that whichever Lestrange it was went looking for Tracey's mother in search of his offspring. He could have seen Tracey, either in pictures or memories of the woman and killed her so he could keep Tracey to himself, as he doubted that either of them would have know of their offspring in years they had been locked away. However, when he'd known the pair, neither of the Lestranges had been interested in having offspring.

"I wouldn't play that kind of joke, Tracey," Dumbledore said softly.

"Its a nightmare... surely just a nightmare. Wake up Tracey. You have to wake up," she said, closing her eyes in response although mostly to herself before she started to pinch herself. However, the tears were forming in her eyes already. She knew this was no joke, no dream, no nightmare. It ached in her heart far too much for that. She wasn't going to wake up this time, in tears as she had on those night that she dreamt instead of the monster standing over her mother, who broken and dead, bathed in blood.

Tracey ran her hands into her hair and grasped hand-fulls. Tears were beginning to break free of the barrier and trail her cheeks. Her throat started to ache to cry out, to the point that she started choking on them and also gasping for breath.

"Nooo, not her too," she wailed quietly as her body started to crumple and she crouched herself into a ball, crying in earnest now.

Severus actually felt an ache to see the girl cry from yet another loss. He frowned as he gazed at Professor Dumbledore who was staring at the girl, frowning empathetically. Severus needed to talk to Dumbledore, hear what he knew of the woman's death, and tell him of the letter. But at the moment, he felt it had to wait.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it. Perhaps it was the fact that this was not the first time Tracey had lost someone while she was at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was because this time, the girl had lost the only parent she had ever known and was an orphan so to speak. But he felt the need to reach out to her.

Tucking away the letter she had showed him in his robes, he knelt beside her. Forgetting that Dumbledore was there and watching, and forgetting that she might reject him, he gingerly grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace. To which she immediately melted and sobbed, her body shaking uncontrollably.

XX

"I think that is the only part I abhor about this job," Albus said sadly as he dropped heavily in his seat behind his desk, later that day. After Tracey had cried for a while, she became very tired and unresponsive. Severus and himself had escorted her to the hospital wing where she was given a relaxant and a sleeping potion and they'd left her sleeping. "It never gets any easier to do."

Severus nodded a bit absentmindedly as he sat opposite of the Headmaster, who turned his gaze to him wearily. "How did she die?" Severus asked, noting that Professor Dumbledore was giving him the floor to speak.

"Another baffling death, the kind that leaves no marks or trace," Dumbledore replied ironically. "A first of many to come, no doubt."

Severus nodded, understanding. The Killing Curse. Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter he placed there. Leaning over the desk, he handed if over to Professor Dumbledore, who read through it and looked up, just as his brows did. "Miss Davis received this?" Severus nodded in response to the question. "Do you know where it came from?" he asked, gazing down. "R. L? Initials?"

"She received it from a Malfoy owl, it was why she appeared to want to tear him limb from limb, she thought it was a joke on his part. Mr. Malfoy denied sending it, and mentioned having family members visiting, which he was reluctant to share more information on," Severus reported. "Those initials could be for either Rabastan or Rodolphous Lestrange."

"This is genuine, you think?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't see why anyone would go through the trouble, especially as there is nothing to gain form it, unless it was genuine."

Dumbledore nodded at this. He then looked up and furrowed a brow a bit in thought. "That was why the Impostor Moody mentioned her," he murmured.

"Pardon?"

Albus sat back and laid the letter down on the desk as he nodded. "We were having a discussion on the students and he mentioned how every Death Eater's child was just like their parents... he started listing them and he threw in Miss Davis with the rest. I remember because I mentioned how Miss Davis was a muggle-born and he shook his head, asking how I was so blind not see the resemblance," Dumbledore said, his gaze far away. "Barty Crouch, Jr. would have been one who'd have known the Lestrange brothers best. Probably saw traits or habits in Tracey that reminded him of them."

Severus thought of this and frowned, able to see what Barty Jr. meant. Her hair was dark like Rodolphous', but her build was a bit more like Rabastan's. Her obstinate and pushy attitude was also much like Rodolphous, but her slight penchant for instability was reminiscent of Rabastan. She had nerves of steel when she needed, just like Rodolphous too. Not to mention certain expressions she made with her face, had a tinge of familiarity to that of either Lestrange brother.

Thinking as he was on the brothers, Severus frowned. "But her mother's death does not fit in with either Lestrange. Rabastan liked to draw out his victim's death. Rodolphous usually put them under the Imperious Curse and tested their resistance in various torturous ways before having them kill themselves."

"Well to do so would draw too much attention to the death. As is is, this death will still claim attention. I'm sure Aurors are already looking into it," Dumbledore said with a furrowed brow.

Severus nodded at this as his mind wandered to another matter. "Miss Davis will ask about her mother's death," he said delicately. Dumbledore looked up and nodded, but didn't say anything more. "What should I tell her?"

"Tracey is a bright girl. She'll figure it out on her own, so I don't see why you should bother keeping it from her. However, how much of the truth you tell her... that is entirely up to your discretion," he replied. Severus grimaced at this, unsure what would be a good idea to tell the girl and what not to tell her. Either way, it was not a pleasant task.

"What will happen to Miss Davis now?" he asked.

"I believe guardianship will pass to an aunt she has," he replied, gazing at the letter on his desk and pointing at it with an index finger. "If her father, whichever of the two he may be, is looking for her to claim his paternity rights I think for the time being that it wouldn't be safe for Tracey to leave the school. At least not in the meantime."

Severus raised a brow at this. He of course understood where the Headmaster was coming from, and he supposed that it saved him a trip... one that he certainly didn't want to repeat. "Miss Davis won't be able to attend her mother's funeral?"

"Funerals are important in the grieving process, but I think her safety takes precedence," Albus sighed gravely to which Severus had no comment on, and merely nodded.

XX

Tracey had been given a sleeping draught, she'd spend most of the day sleeping in the hospital wing. Severus arrived after his last class of the day to see how she was doing and because he still had a conversation pending with the girl. A conversation he wasn't particularly looking forward to having.

When he arrived, however, he found that the girl was still deep asleep, and had not yet woken. She lay on her left side, curled up with one hand tucked under the pillow while the other rest on the edge of the pillow, next to her cheek. She was covered with a crisp, white cotton sheet that came up to her shoulder. Beside her on a nightstand, her school robes and her tie lay folded neatly on the table, a detail Pomfrey had taken care of.

Thinking that she was due to wake up in any moment, he decided to wait until she woke, thinking it was only a matter of time. However, the minutes dragged very slowly, with not the slightest of stirs from the girl. For a moment, Severus wondered what he should do. He could easily just leave and let Madam Pomfrey notify him when she awoke. He could also, just as easily wake the girl, as the potion should have worn off by now, and her sleep was the natural sleep of someone exhausted.

But for a reason Severus could not exactly pinpoint, he didn't want to do that. Maybe it was because he thought it would be discourteous to a girl, who had only just lost her mother, the only parent she had ever known. Maybe it was because he knew what the girl would have to eventually face. If either of these were the reason, Severus wondered if he had gotten too soft.

Severus sighed as he pulled out his wand and conjured a somewhat comfortable armchair to sit in and wait. Sure there were other things he had to do, but none as pressing as this. After all, he was Head of House and this was one of his students. Seeing to her, for the time being, was more important than correcting papers, patrolling the corridors and checking on the rest of the Slytherins in the common room as they could easily be watched by the Prefects.

Besides, he had a lot to consider. He wasn't sure yet how much he was going to disclose to Miss Davis. Pondering it in the Hospital Wing was as good an option as anywhere else. After all, Madam Pomfrey had placed curtains all around Miss Davis' bed. And the hospital wing was for the most part empty of students. Well apart from those that wandered in every now and then to received relaxants due to cracking under the stress of OWLs or NEWTs.

Severus sank into the chair he conjured up and turned to look out the window. There wasn't much to look at, apart from an unchanging scenery. However, it was somewhere to lock his gaze while he pondered what he should say to Miss Davis.

Dumbledore was right, he was better off telling Tracey how her mother died, because if he didn't, she would ask her family and would figure out that it had been by killing curse. However, telling her that her mother been killed by the killing curse, raised other questions. The most obvious being why would anyone do that. And what was he supposed to say then?

He could tell her that she was merely the first known casualty in the war that was starting. That her mothers death was meaningless, that she had simply crossed the path of a Death Eater and paid the consequences. However, he thought that might be dangerous.

Would it not be better that the girl knew what she was up against? Wouldn't it be better that she know that her father, whichever of the Lestrange brothers he was, was apparently in search of her, for unknown and dubious motives?

Severus furrowed his brow at this as he turned to look at the sleeping girl. He frowned deeply as he stared at her relaxed features. They were so femininely soft and pretty. Her dark hair, and dark brows, almost made him wish he could doubt that she could be a Lestrange. After all Rodolphous had dark hair but it was very evidently brown and Rabastan, his hair too was dark but notably crimson red in color. It made it hard to believe that the blood that coursed in her veins was that same that coursed through theirs.

However, he was beyond the point of doubting it. He knew that she was. He'd thought of all the similarities in the Headmaster's office. He'd seen them there, and remembered every memory between the three members in question, where the similarity between two or more of them was simply astounding.

Tracey was a Lestrange, no doubt about that. But why the sudden interest in the part of her father? From what Severus recalled, Rabastan was not a steady man in many aspects, especially not where his sexual life was involved. He had varied taste, but the thing he most seemed to relish in was being dominated. He was not the type to wish to be a father, ever.

And Rodolphous? Rodolphous was bossy and domineering, but he also liked challenges. That was the reason he'd married Bellatrix. She presented a challenge. He didn't easily dominate her but when he broke her, he relished in it. He'd married her for more than the fact that she was a pureblood. Severus knew Rodolphous would one day want to pass on his family name, but they'd been arrested before he was ready for it.

It really didn't make sense to Severus why now after all these years either one of them would be interested in one of the bastards they might have begotten. Sure they had been locked up for the last fourteen or so years to look into it before, but Tracey had been born before they had been locked away. Why hadn't they looked her up before? Had they just not known? Or had not been interested before?

Severus shook his head, thinking it was really irrelevant. Instead, he needed to think what he was going to do. Should he let the girl keep her peace of mind? Or should he tell her that she had a Death Eater father recently on the loose, who appeared to have an interest in locating her and claiming his paternity?

Severus focused his gaze on the sleeping girl. He grimaced to see that even in her sleep, she could not manage to look at peace. Her thin brows, arched over her eyes in such a way that it made her look like she was scowling even though her features were relaxed.

This girl, as far as he could tell, never had a moment in her life where she could allow herself to be happy. And it wasn't completely her fault. Destiny had been cruel to her. It dealt her a hand that was rife with tragedy. Her older sister, her only tether to perhaps sanity that Severus knew about, took her own life. Years later, her mother was murdered because her biological father was a Death Eater. What else was she supposed to shoulder in the future?

Would she be prepared for the storm to come?

He studied her. She was fifteen... or possibly sixteen, Severus wasn't sure. Whatever her age, Tracey acted beyond it. She wasn't like many of her silly, teenaged classmates. She was one of the few set apart from the rest by experiencing real grief in her life. And yet unlike others, she wouldn't allow herself to enjoy any part of the life she could lead. She refused to act her age, and enjoy whatever innocence was left in it.

Thinking back to himself at that age, wasn't a good parallel. He hadn't let himself enjoy his life either. He'd had to open his eyes at a young age. He enjoyed what he could of his early years in school, but by fifth year, the hate rising in him was becoming all-consuming. There was too much anger and hatred inside him. A fury that alienated him from any good, and aligned him with the worst of people.

Tracey could be saved form that fate, because when Severus looked into her eyes, he didn't see the same hatred. That hatred she harbored was just a mask for the pain. It wasn't yet solidified and enmeshed in everything she was. Tracey could still be happy. But Severus knew she wouldn't let herself be. She was too obstinate. Once she set her mind she was unwilling to change it, damn the cost.

For reasons he didn't know, he wanted to save the girl. He wanted to save her, not from the world, but from her father and most of all from herself. However, he wasn't sure how to do that. And he was more than sure, that Tracey would never allow it, if she knew. She wasn't the type that wanted to be saved, she didn't want to be considered a victim or a damsel in distress.

It was dark out, by the time Tracey's eyes started to flutter and her limbs started to slowly stir. Severus studied her apprehensively as her eyes slowly started to open. She moved a bit to rub the sleep form her eyes, before settling back down and gazing slowly around. However, her eyes stopped dead the moment she spotted Professor Snape sitting at her bedside.

She exhaled like all her strength went with it as she sunk deep back into her side and grabbed the edge of her pillow with both hands, clinging to it. Amazingly though, she felt more tired than anything else. She just felt absolutely empty and like she had no more tears to cry and no more power left to feel anything but numb.

"How long have I been here?" she mumbled at last when she saw that he was not about to speak. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"Approximately ten hours since you were brought this morning," he replied monotonously as he eyed her carefully. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or not by her lack of emotion. He watched her shuffle her body a bit so that she curled in a way, tugging her pillow with her, to be able to look at him a bit more.

"Professor?" she asked in a small voice. Severus merely looked at her and nodded, in way of telling her she had his full attention. "Do you ever just feel tired, deep in your bones? Tired about how the world never seems to change. My life is either like a mundane unchanging dream, or a nightmare I will never wake from. I'm sick of it."

Severus looked at her and shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable with just how dead her tone was, her gaze blank and dull. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. "Life always changes," he said slowly, as though weighing his words himself. Tracey didn't react in any visible way, she merely lay there, staring at him.

"Will I be going home?" she asked at last. Last time she had been informed that someone in her family had passed away, she had immediately been escorted home for a few days. She didn't know if that was the usual procedure with these matters, but she guessed now that it must change according to each individual case. However, at the moment, she didn't feel like moving. She just wanted to lay there and cocoon herself deeper in this feeling of nothingness, where time and the world seemed to have stopped and there was nothing to attend to.

Severus shook his head, still scrambling for what he was going to tell her. He had a feeling the moment was fast approaching and he still felt at a loss. "No, you won't," he said cautiously. He expected the girl to react at this, to ask him why. To be outraged perhaps that she couldn't attend to her own mother's funeral. Instead, he got nothing.

Tracey breathed slowly, wondering what she felt about this. She was a blank slate. What did she think about it? She wasn't sure. In a way, she was relieved. Her sisters funeral had been taxing. All she wanted to do was be alone with her memories, thoughts and the grief that gripped her. She hadn't wanted to deal with everyone walking up to her, telling her what a tragedy it was because her sister was so bright.

She didn't expect her mother's would be better. And did she really want to see her mother in a casket and bury her? Was she even that saddened by her mother's death? Tracey wasn't sure. She was sure that somewhere, deep down there must be some love for the women that fed, and clothed her and offered her shelter. But how much affection and love had she felt from her mother? She'd never felt it was enough. It always left her longing. She got only the scraps her mother could spare for her.

For the most part, Tracey grew to resent her mother. All she could ever show her mother was vexation. She'd never shown her any love, and she didn't want to felt guilty for that. Though a part of her felt guilty for never letting her mother know she loved her, or appreciated that she cared even a bit for her, she couldn't allow herself to admit it. Her mother had only reaped what she had sown, there was no reason she should feel guilty for that. If anything, she should be angry for never having given her a piece of her mind.

"What happens to me now?" Tracey asked, not particularly concerned. Her mother didn't have a vast family, but surely someone would look after her in the meantime.

"I understand an Aunt of yours will have guardianship of you. I believe Professor Dumbledore will visit her to explain some things," Severus replied carefully, leaving out that the Headmaster was also going to set up protection charms around her aunt's residence in case her father attempted _contact_.

She guessed that this meant her Aunt Jane, her mother's sister. After all, Victor's family had for the most part pulled away from them after his death. Only his parents had bothered at all to keep in contact, and that was mostly only to keep in contact with Marie. They treated her mother with disdain and Tracey, they treated her like she didn't exist.

Tracey breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what she had yet to ask. She hadn't wanted to get to this point. She was afraid to ask. Afraid what knowing would mean. She wanted to remain detached, as if this wasn't happening to her, but someone else. But she had to know. She had to ask.

Slowly opening her eyes, she looked into the Professor's eyes, hard to see in the dim torchlight. She could see it in his eyes, and his suddenly stiffening form. He knew what was coming too and it seemed she wouldn't like what he had to say. "How did she-" Tracey stopped, unable to say the word. It sounded too harsh to say. Too terrible. "What happened to her?" she asked when she couldn't force the word out.

It was the moment of truth, and Severus wasn't sure yet how much to tell her. He shifted in his seat to buy himself some time. It wasn't enough. "I didn't get the details or specifics," he started. "Professor Dumbledore informed me there was no trace or mark, that your family is baffled by what happened-"

Tracey frowned, not understanding. She felt the Professor was going in a round about way. What could be hard to understand about it? Dead was dead, wasn't it? She just needed to know how. Slowly she abandoned her position and sat up and stared at him hard. "Just fucking tell me what happened, give it to me straight," she demanded, feeling angry suddenly. She had a feeling that he knew perfectly well what happened and he just didn't want to tell her for whatever reason.

"Someone, we don't know who exactly, used the Killing Curse on her," he stated bluntly, giving up on tiptoeing around her feelings. Tracey furrowed her brow even further.

"What? Why? Who would do such a thing?" she asked in a rush, confused and lost.

"If you believe Professor Dumbledore and Potter that the Dark Lord has returned, then you must understand another war is under way. Disappearance's and seemingly random death's led up to his last rise to power and its been happening again since longer than perhaps you have realized," Severus responded, thinking to spare her for the time being of the truth on her paternity. After all, wasn't there room for doubt? And how could he tell her who her father was when he wasn't even sure which of the brothers it was, or what she could expect, when he didn't even know their motives. And what could she do about it?

In the meantime, she was safe at school. Professor Dumbledore, would make it so she was safe at home. Why tax her mind anymore?

Tracey turned away from Professor Snape and stared down into her lap. She remembered reading up on the last war. She remembered reading that Death Eater revels were sources of entertainment where the torture of randomly picked muggles was the main activity. It had been easy to think of it in the abstract before, or like a story, that couldn't really touch one.

Even when she had read of the events at the Quidditch World Cup last year, where a few Death Eaters dressed up and messed with some muggles, she hadn't thought much of it. All they had done was given the muggles a scare, nothing serious had been done to them. She had pushed it aside like it was just a prank gone too far and made in bad taste, nothing more.

However, this was reality and it was revolting. Her mother had died a senseless death just because some prejudiced nutcases thought it would be fun? Tracey felt furious. She wanted to break something, tear it to shreds and scream out in frustration but all she could do was sit and clutch the sheets until her knuckles were white.

"If that is all, I'll leave you to your-"

"Professor?" Tracey asked, suddenly whirling to look at him as he stood. He raised a brow questioningly at her. "Do I have to stay in the hospital wing?"

"I think Madam Pomfrey would prefer it, for tonight at least," he stated merely. Tracey frowned at this thinking she didn't want to be here any longer, but she didn't really want to go back to the dorms either. "Is that all?"

Tracey bit on her bottom lip for a moment. For some reason, she didn't really want to be alone at the moment. She didn't know if it was because just so she could stave off any feeling, or if it was because she genuinely wanted company, but she didn't want him to go. "Can you..." Tracey started in a small voice. She didn't really want to ask. It would hurt her pride too much to merely ask. It would be absolutely humiliating, if he refused. "Could you stay... for a while? Please?" she asked, when he started giving her an extremely reluctant look.

Severus internally cringed at this. He didn't want to spend more time with a student. He'd already spent hours sitting by her and his back was starting to feel it. However, staring at her and knowing how much asking must have cost her, and considering she had just lost her mother, how could he say no? As her Head of House, he probably owed her at least this.

Slowly, he lowered himself back in his seat.

**TBC...**

**A/n: **All right so tell me what you think.


	8. Fireworks

**Difficult**

"_Do you ever feel already buried deep  
Six feet under scream, but no one seems to hear a thing_

_Do you know that there's still a chance for you_

_Cause there's a spark in you_

_You just gotta ignite the light_

_And let it shine, just own the night_

_Like the Fourth of July  
Cause baby you're a firework."_

-Katy Perry, Firework

_**Chapter 8: Fireworks**_

Blaise couldn't help looking at Tracey. Since they're altercation on the Hogwarts Express earlier in the year he'd made it a point to avoid her. There was a part of him that made his stomach twist at the sight of her, that had nothing to do with the infatuation that he felt for her and more to do with feeling a certain amount of disgust and resentment towards her.

But these days, he couldn't help looking for her and feeling his heart constrict painfully at the sight of her. Something had happened to her at the very beginning of April. He wasn't sure what it was, but she appeared to him like the light inside her had gone out.

Tracey had never stood out greatly, but she had some character to her. He couldn't help looking at her over the years and he learned to detect the play of emotions on her pretty face. He saw the subtle nuances of emotions that crossed her fine features. He had seen how eyes sparkled, and even been graced with a few smiles in previous years. A secret smile he was sure no one else had ever caught.

However, now... she seemed so hollow, it pained him to see her like this. She was so unresponsive to the whole world around her. It was like her spirit had vacated her body. She was emotionless. She went through the motions of daily life mechanically, but she was absent, drifting somewhere far away while the color slowly faded from her features.

He wasn't sure why, but it deeply disturbed him. He wanted to approach her and say something, ask her what had happened, make her snap of her stupor, even if it was just by making her snap at him. However, he knew that there was nothing he could do. There was no way that she would ever open up to him, and he could understand and knew that under different circumstances it was the wisest thing for her to do. But it just made him feel so helpless.

Blaise felt absolutely useless, watching her day by day as she drifted through the castle like a cruel perversion of nature. She was like a beautiful doll, who'd been carved through with a knife and made hollow. He could feel his frustration building, and he felt a quiet desperation possessing him as he continued to watch her, for any indication that she was still there.

He starting losing hope when she wouldn't even react to the news that Professor Dumbledore had been sacked and Umbridge was the new Headmistress, but felt them rise when he saw a spark of interest in her eyes when she saw the fireworks that were let loose on the school. Throughout the day, when he saw in classes of the halls, he watched how they always caught her eyes, and she watched them with intelligence behind those eyes, and maybe even some delight at their splendor.

It was the only thing that got a response out of her these days, and he was reluctant to let her go and revert back to how she had been before the fireworks. After dinner that evening, he walked up to her just as she was turning to head down to Slytherin. Carefully he strode up behind her and smoothly slipped his hand into hers and cupped it firmly, before pulling her past the stairs that lead to the dungeons. He started walking fast and concentrating on where he was going and not on how her hand seemed to fit perfectly into his and made his skin of his hand tingle.

For her part, it took Tracey a moment to snap out of her stupor and realize what was happening. She slowly registered that her hand was held by someone and she was being pulled after them out onto the grounds. In confusion, she traced the long arm to the person it belonged to and immediately recognized Blaise Zabini.

All at once, she felt a flood of emotions that she had been unable to feel the last several days. The heat on her neck suddenly spiked and reached her cheeks like licking flames. Her stomach knotted itself as well as her tongue. She felt incredulous, angry and pleased all at once and struggled with which to express.

"Zabini, what the hell are you doing?" she asked indignantly as she started tugging but failed to remove her hand from his grasp and found that his tugging was stronger than her, and she involuntarily had to follow him.

"I'm bringing you back to life," he said, feeling pleased and not able to hide the brilliant smile that he shot at her as he looked over his shoulder. There was just a hint of smugness to it as he looked at her cherry-painted cheeks. "You know you look pretty when you're angry?" he said with another smile as he caught the way her lips were parted in her anger.

Turning around, he continued started heading towards the quidditch pitch, quicker now, afraid that in her anger she would suddenly be able to stop him. However, Tracey was at a loss for words and what to do. She was so stunned that she couldn't snap out of what was happening and think of a way to stop their progress. Instead, she had to focus on keeping up with Blaise's strides as he was now practically barreling towards the pitch.

Her mind was too much in a tizzy now to do anything. When he suddenly stopped and turned to look at her, telling her not to move, that he would be back quickly, she didn't say anything. She merely stood, now all curious to see what he was up to while wondering what on earth he had meant by saying, bringing her back to life.

In a matter of seconds, Blaise returned with his hand clasped around one of the brooms that she recognized from their first years in their flying lessons. Slowly, she raised a brow as she looked questioningly at him. She almost smiled when she caught sight of the mischievous gleam to his eyes and turn of his mouth.

"Disillusion yourself and mount, we're going to see the fireworks from a different vantage point," he said as he mounted the broom and then pulled out his wand. Tracey crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, though a greater part of her wanted to join Blaise. "Come on Tracey, I know you're not afraid, and this will be fun, you know it will."

Tracey sighed as she walked over to him and mounted the broom behind him. The next moment, she could no longer see him, unless he shifted and the broom appeared to be gone too. She bit nervously on her lip, until she felt him tap her forehead with his wand and felt something odd wash over her. "Here," he said, taking hold of her hands and wrapping them around his waist. "Kick off on three," he then instructed before counting off and he and Tracey kicked off, taking flight.

For the next several hours, as the sunlight faded and night took over, they soared around the castle, sometimes chasing closely after an errant firework outside, and turning just before it suddenly exploded, laughing as they just missed its fiery touch. Sometimes, they floated around windows, gazing and laughing at Umbridge and Filch as they darted around the castle, trying to subdue the fireworks still caught inside. Every now and then, they still heard loud bangs that made them jump and laugh all over again.

They didn't stop flying until nearly two in the morning, when the last of the fireworks finally disappeared. However, instead of letting the night end, Blaise took them towards the Great Hall and landed them on its roof, where they both removed the disillusionment charms and sat in silence, staring out into the darkened lake.

Because the roof of the Great Hall was at a steep angle, they had to be very careful with the way they sat. However, they were both still trying to enjoy the excitement, that they weren't worried about how easily they could slip to their demise. Tracey wondered as she tried to calm her wildly beating heart, if it helped that it was so dark out, that they couldn't even see the depths that they watched over.

For several minutes, they let their recent experiences sink in and settle over them as they reclaimed their racing pulses. Slowly, they breathed in the spring night, feeling its calm sink in. Even the distant bangs that rarely went off now inside the school, didn't rouse them from the sudden tranquility that was taking over.

"I don't think I'ver ever had that much fun for so many consecutive hours," Tracey murmured at last, after several long moments. Blaise heard a tinge of sadness in her confession, and felt a sudden sinking of his spirits. Had he failed? However, Tracey suddenly turned to him, and due to their proximity and how adjusted his eyes were to the lack of light, he could see the trace of a smile on her face and the way her eyes twinkled at him like little stars. "Thank you, Blaise. This was great."

Her words made his heart flutter. He smiled at her, and noted how close they were. Without thinking for a moment, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, and pulled away slowly. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he said smiling.

Tracey licked her lips and stared at him. Suddenly, she felt like she wanted to cry, as it struck her how beautiful this whole evening had been. Shaking her head, Tracey gazed down. "I've longed for it too," she admitted, against her better judgement. But it was a distraction. At least focusing on something other than how different this one night was from the rest of her life, made her feel less emotional.

She was startled, though she knew she should have expected it, when he felt his hand gently lifting her chin. Looking up into his eyes, she didn't have a moment to think before his lips were pressed against her again, this time lingering there, and caressing her own softly. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to close, and moved her own lips against his.

She knew that this was a mistake, a dire one. But for once, she didn't want to think. She didn't want to worry about what this could mean tomorrow, or what it could do to her. She just wanted to shut off her brain and feel this wonderful thing, even though she knew it could only lead to suffering later.

In this moment, all that existed was Blaise. How soft and gentle he was with her. How his lips made her feel like there was a warmth that started where his lips brushed against her and spread through her insides, burning its hottest around her navel and just south of that. She felt an ache swelling there, and rising from the center and contaminating each of her nerve endings until they were screaming for something.

However, a bang ended the moment. They both jumped and Tracey felt her slip a centimeter, that sent her heart jumping frantically in panic. Slowly, she pulled away and reminded herself that she was sitting perilously high. Panting for breath, she looked forward and down, placing her hands on either side of her on the rough shingles and readjusting herself.

"This is a bad time for that Blaise," Tracey breathed. Blaise felt a bit unhappy about this, but was at least relieved by the fact that she wasn't demanding he take her back to safe ground so that they could go to bed already.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Not particularly," Tracey responded, shooting him down definitively, her tone telling him that it was a subject completely off limits. Since the night in the Hospital wing, she had felt a numbness take over her. She was happy for it and little by little, she found that she was able to completely dissociate from her sentiments on her family. Although, it helped vastly not to think about it.

She'd even managed to not think about the stupid letter, which she just thought was probably just a stupid prank from Draco, and she was willing enough to let it go as Draco wasn't fucking around with her anymore.

However, Tracey hadn't realized that even being emotionally numb could be draining. She sighed as she felt the early April breeze touch her exposed skin. It had only been a couple days, and she felt as though years had been heaped on her shoulders in that short expanse of time. This night made her feel like all that weight had lifted, at least for a while and she felt alive. The thought that she owed it to Blaise made her frown slightly. "Why did you do it?" she suddenly asked, turning to look at Blaise.

Blaise looked down at his hands. He didn't like the tone in her voice. It was in part suspicious, but he could hear her confusion and even a hint of genuine and benign curiosity too. "I missed you," he said with extreme nonchalance, though he felt panic inside to admit it.

"Without ironies, please Blaise," Tracey said coldly, though her heart hammered and she grudgingly wished it was true.

Blaise smirked, pleased that she didn't believe him. "Because you're like a firework, amazing to watch."

Tracey would have smiled at this analogy, if she wasn't already finding what was wrong with that statement. "Fireworks have very short lives, Blaise. They explode in showers of light, only to linger for a few seconds before fading into the night," Tracey said drily. She thought bitterly on her sister, and even her mother. She didn't feel either one had been around long enough, they were too young to pass on already. It made her wonder if she would meet the same fate.

The sudden thought felt like a ice cold blade had been jabbed in her abdomen and twisted. She gasped as she suddenly realized that she was officially older than her sister had been. It seemed so odd. Tracey had forever thought of Marie as her older sister, it was what she'd always thought she'd be. However, Marie was fifteen when she died. Tracey would be sixteen the following month.

"What's wrong?" Balise asked, his brow furrowing at her gasp, placing a hand reassuringly as he could on her shoulder.

Tracey shook her head. "Its nothing," she mumbled, shoving aside the thoughts of Marie and her age and how odd it felt to be moving past the stage of life Marie had last been in. "Its very late, Blaise," Tracey said, turning and focusing hard as she could on the present. "We should get to bed, we have classes tomorrow."

Blaise sighed, wondering how this moment had shattered so quickly. However, he knew better than to press his luck. He stood, very carefully and placed the broom beneath him, before extending his hand to Tracey and helping her mount behind him. When he felt her arms securely wrapped around his middle, he gingerly stepped forward and pushed off the edge of the roof.

For a moment they both felt their hearts leap to their throats as they seemed to plummet. However, Blaise quickly pulled up on the handle of the broom, and they were soaring through the dark around the castle until they were in one of the courtyards. Once they were there, Blaise used the Banishing charm to send the broom it back to its closet.

"We should head back separately. If we're caught together, they will think we were doing something sexual," Tracey said in a a near whisper. Blaise would have smirked, but he wasn't in the mood. He merely nodded, conceding to her point. Now with Umbridge in charge, being caught and assumed to being up to something of a sexual nature would be even more inconvenient. And considering Umbridge and Filch had been up pretty late chasing fireworks, there was a chance that they were both still lurking the halls, even at this hour.

"All right, good night," Blaise said as he nodded.

Tracey merely turned and started walking quickly away, astutely keeping to the shadows and hunching slightly. Having been out past curfew plenty of nights in the past, Tracey new perfectly well which were the quickest, darkest or most desolate routes to get to the dungeons. She made it there, in what she was sure was record time without coming across anyone. She was nearly at the Slytherin entrance, when she heard footsteps coming up the hall in the opposite direction from which she came.

She bit on her lip and thought to duck nearby, but just as she was turning she realized she was too late. Almost as soon as she turned, she felt a beam of light at her back and casting her shadow in the ground before her. "Its half past three in the morning, what are you doing out so late?" she heard the unmistakable hiss as the footsteps approached faster.

Tracey sighed and cursed under breath as she tensed for a moment, rapidly thinking which would be the best tactic to use. However, upon remembering that when her sister passed, Snape had been quite lenient with her, she figured she didn't really need one. After all it had only been a couple days... _really, __days? It felt like centuries_, she thought, since her mother had passed away.

Severus sighed as he saw that it was Tracey Davis. "Miss Davis, how many times do I have to tell you not to break curfew?" he asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his wand so that the light of it wasn't blinding the girl as it was level with her face.

"I'm sorry Professor Snape, but I swear its been the only time this year," Tracey said, looking down and pretending she felt ashamed and hinting that she wouldn't ever do it again, though she knew it wasn't so. In fact, she was sure he knew it too, but it was worth the attempt.

Severus eyed the girl for a moment to measure her up. He saw through her charade and the lie. However, a part of him was relieved she was at last awake from the stupor she'd been in the last few days. Severus really hadn't been sure what to make of it. When the girl had lost her sister, she had broke down in tears, and even though she had bravely tried dissimulate that she wasn't sad, he'd seen it in her eyes.

Though she had cried too when she had heard of her mother's passing, she didn't much react as much as he would have expected to her murder. Sure, she had been briefly outraged by it, but for the most part she had taken the news rather calmly. She'd sort of become empty afterwards, and frankly, he felt a bit worried about it when he noted it wasn't going away very quickly and didn't seem to be waning in the least.

Severus wasn't sure what to make of it. He had seen the girl go through grieving in two different ways, and he wan't sure quite what that meant. As he stared at her, he wasn't sure what to do either. Last time, he had given her leniency due to her recent loss. He was almost inclined to do the same this time, considering she was under the same sort of duress, but he had two problems with this.

One was that he felt rather annoyed that she had the gall to lie directly to his face when he'd been so patient and understanding with her in the past. Hadn't he obliged her request to keep her company in the Hospital Wing, even though it went against his very nature? Hadn't he answered her questions on the Knight Bus four years earlier?

The second problem he had, was that by not punishing her at all, the girl would think in the future that so long as she gave him some sob-story that she could do as she pleased. Apparently the girl was under the impression that he was soft, something he was prepared to rudely awaken her from.

"You certainly won't," he said coolly as he wondered how to best punish her. "I'm revoking your Hogsmead privileges for the rest of the year, and for the next two months you will have detention with me from seven until curfew at which point I will personally walk you to Slytherin and expect you to stay there, unless you want to further provoke me into expelling you."

Tracey felt her body suddenly like it was lit on fire as for a moment her mouth slipped open in indignation. However, she quickly shut it and kept her mouth shut. Apparently Snape was in one of his worst moods, and she thought that tonight wasn't a night to argue with him. She was sure by the tone in his voice and the way he was glaring at her that he was daring her to say something, just to show her exactly how much of a hard-ass he could be.

Instead, she pressed her mouth into a thin line and merely glared at him, breathing heavily in her anger and balling her hands into fist at her side. Severus smirked, glad to see he had gotten through to her. "Smart decision," he said smugly, before pointing a long and stained finger in the direction of the entrance to Slytherin. "Good night, Miss Davis."

**TBC...**

**A/n: **As always, please review and tell me your thoughts on the story and any suggestions.


	9. Resisting Opression

**Difficult**

"_A desire to resist oppression is implanted in the nature of man."_

_-_Tacitus

_**Chapter 9: Resisting Opression**_

Tracey was angry. For weeks, it was bubbling under the surface, and she struggled to keep it contained, and from showing. And as if it needed to be worse, Snape was making her do the most horrid things. It was like he had compiled all the most volatile, potion-related tasks they had done in class in the last five years and scheduled them all for her detentions.

Every night, she returned to the common room, far too tired to do her homework and sometimes aching or sporting burns and cuts on her hands. She had hoped that he would cut her some slack over the holidays, but she came to find out he wasn't. And that was the last of it she could endure.

"But it's the holidays!" Tracey said incredulously at the end of detention on the Friday before Easter holidays started.

"And? I told you, every weekday for the next two months. That includes the holidays," Severus replied tartly, not looking up at her. However, before he could say anything more, he felt his arm sting. For a moment, he clenched his forearm, wondering why he was still not used to that. He supposed it was because he never expected the summons. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked, glaring at her while he gritted his teeth.

Her lips twisted into the beginnings of a snarl, before she whirled around and stormed away. Tracey gritted her teeth and rushed all the way towards Slytherin. She could barely speak the password when she arrived and felt her hands clench at her side. She wanted to hit something, or scream, or yank out her hair, but once more all she could do was tremble to try and contain it.

When she stepped inside the common room, she was surprised that it was empty for the most part. The embers were slowly dying in the grate. More than usual, the common room looked green. Tracey wasn't sure why, but more then ever she hated just standing in there. It made her skin crawl.

Looking up, she glared at the light fixtures, hanging from chains on the ceiling. For a moment, she wondered why on earth Salazar Slythering had thought it was a good idea to use green lamps to light the common room. Wasn't it bad enough the Slytherin common room was underground, did he have to make it all the more gloomier by giving it a green and sickly ambiance.

Before Tracey really new what she was doing, she pulled her wand from her pocket. She aimed it at one of the lights, and without much thought, a spell zipped out of the tip of her wand and towards the lamp she was aiming at. Soon as it touched the lamp, it exploded and showered down pieces of glass. Where the lamp had been, her eyes could barely discern the chain it had hung from, in the slightly darker room.

For a moment, Tracey felt a bit of relief and almost smiled seeing that this was going to be fun. Turning her wand on the fireplace, she caused it to erupt brighter, so that she could see properly what she was doing. One by one, she targeted each lamp, and caused it to explode and shower glass. With each lamp that was gone, the more Tracey felt better, and the more the common room became less dark.

If the noise had woken anyone, Tracey wasn't sure as no one came up. At least, no other student. Tracey was standing there, breathing a little more calmly when suddenly she heard someone clapping slowly. "Bravo! I've been wanting to do some mischief in here for years."

"Peeves," Tracey grit out in annoyance. For a moment, her heart had pounded in near panic that someone had seen her. If it had been a student, she would have been in a lot of trouble. "Come out from wherever you are Peeves!" Tracey commanded. After a moment, the poltergeist materialized in front of her. She glared at his grinning face. "What the hell are you doing down here. You know the Bloody Baron has forbidden you passage in the Dungeons and most of all Slytherin."

"So touchy! I was just floating above when I heard the most delightful sound of breaking glass. Makes me shiver to my booties," he said, just as his body did exactly that and his eyes closed in delight. Tracey frowned in response.

"Yes, well get on your fucking way already, before I tell the Bloody Baron that it was you," Tracey said. It earned her a glare from Peeves, however, he immediately vanished from sight. Tracey would have sighed in relief and got on her way, had not the Bloody Baron suddenly appeared, coming straight through the fireplace.

Considering she was standing all the way near the entrance, and would have to traverse the entire common room to get to the dorm, she didn't have a chance. For a moment, she pondered ducking behind a piece of furniture to hide before the Baron saw her, but she wasn't sure. Could the Baron see better than her in the dark?

"Did you do this?" he asked gruffly, his voice filled with anger as he suddenly turned his head in her direction. Tracey frowned, thinking that perhaps he did. For a moment, she wondered what she should say. However, it seemed rather obvious, after all she was caught redhanded so to speak. Her wand was still in her hand. She could of course say it was Peeves, but with Peeves now gone, she didn't expect the Baron to believe her. After all, Peeves for the most part always steered clear of the Barons territory.

"Yes," Tracey admitted, thinking there was nothing for it as she straightened her posture. For a moment, she considered Snape's threat. She was on thin ice as it was with him, and she didn't doubt that he would expel her. However, she stopped for a moment and thought about it. What loss would that be? In a year, she would be of age. If she wanted to do magic, she'd be able to. What did she need Hogwarts for?

Ever since she became part of the wizarding world, her personal life fell to pieces. Now, she wasn't invisible as she once had been. It was like the universe started paying attention to her and suddenly decided to target her as one of those unlucky people who only would know suffering. In her first year at school, Marie had killed herself.

If Tracey had been at home, instead of Hogwarts, Marie wouldn't have done that! If Tracey had been home, maybe her mother wouldn't be dead. If she wasn't a witch, she wouldn't have to be in this world, where a person could kill another and leave no trace of it, with jut a spell.

Why should she stay in school? Why should she care to stay in the wizarding world and be part of it? And at least if she were expelled, she'd be master of herself again. She could stay out as late as she wanted. She could real whatever book she liked and not be worried about who saw.

When she looked up, she realized that the Bloody Baron was standing in front of her, ranting while pointing with a ghostly hand towards the light fixtures. When she paid attention to what he was saying, she realized that he was telling her to fix it. "NO."

"Excuse me?" he demanded.

"Did dying fuck with your hearing? I said NO. I'm not fixing it. And I don't give a shit, you can run and tell Professor Snape and he can fucking expel me for all I care. I'm tired of not being able to do what I want and being a fucking prisoner in this school. I'm tired that I'm stuck inside this castle, and the only people that care about me are out there, and for some reason dying and theres nothing I could do for them!"

The Baron frowned deeply. He wasn't sure why it had taken so long, but he suddenly realized that he had spoken to this girl before. Her suddenly turning to him and cursing and practically shouting at him, suddenly reminded him of it. In all his years at the ghost of Slytheirn, very few students had ever spoken to him, and even a fewer potion of them had the gall to get the better of him.

In fact, there was only one. A girl of thirteen, who had lost her sister two year before that. For a moment, he eyed the dark eyed, dark haired girl. She was older now, at least two years. Had it really already been two years since he'd had that odd conversation with her?

"One death in five years-"

"Two," Tracey said, before she realized what she was saying. For a moment, she looked at the ghost before her as if with renewed eyes. So he remembered her, did he? "My mum passed away at the beginning of this month. Or rather that's when I knew of it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said in his gruff voice. Tracey looked at the dead man as best she could, considering he was a bit transparent and the fire, which she had rekindled earlier was once more ebbing.

Tracey merely crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed. "I don't need or want your sympathy."

"Its not sympathy, child."

"Well I don't want your empathy either," Tracey snapped. "I don't want anything from you or anyone. So go on, tell Professor Snape."

"I will, soon as he returns," The Baron said coldly.

"He's not in the castle? Then where the hell is he?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Don't think for a moment that I'm _concerned," _Tracey scoffed, once more crossing her arms over her chest as she had let the fall to her side when she hear he wasn't in the castle. "If he's not in, I'm not staying up waiting for his return. I'm tired and I'm going to bed." Tracey said, passing straight through the Baron and heading down to the dorms.

She felt his icy cold wash over her, and closed her eyes momentarily at the pain and general unpleasantness of it, but didn't allow her discomfort to show in her posture or gate. She merely grit her teeth and went on, showing to the Baron that he didn't scare her. Nor did the threat of an imminent expulsion.

XX

Easter Holidays. Severus was counting on them to catch up on his grading. Somehow, he hadn't quite expected a summons, though he thought belatedly that perhaps he should have. Despite being caught unawares, he was more than prepared to give a status report with the Dark Lord, one already prearranged with Dumbledore.

Chilling and undesirable as the encounter was, he carried it out as admirably as always. He was on his way to return to the castle, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, arresting his progress. His body tensed as he slowly turned to face the masked figure who'd touched him. "Severus... its been a long time. I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

Severus looked beyond the man speaking to him, a figure an inch or so shorter than him, but with broader shoulders, were two others. One was a slimmer, but equally tall, male figure and the other, who he had recognized earlier in the meeting as Bellatrix. She was amongst the few female Death Eaters in Voldemort's inner circle and she cut a distinctive figure. By this, he was certain that the man who'd addressed him was Rodolphous and as always, his bother was there tagging along.

"You have a lot of questions to answer," he heard Bellatrix hiss from her husband's side.

Severus felt his lips twitch into a snarl under his mask, able to let the expressions of severe contempt show beneath his mask. Answering questions of his loyalty was not something he had the patience to discuss at the moment. However, he was saved having to say anything as Rodolphous suddenly rounded on Bella.

"Not now!" he barked at her, to which Bellatrix didn't even flinch. She merely crossed her arms over her chest, but remained silent. Rodolphous turned to his brother. "Take her away, I need to discuss a few things with Severus," Rodolphous said to his brother, in a tone that made the hairs on the back of Severus' neck stand on end. It was so familiar, that once more he felt his body tensed in apprehension.

Rabastan nodded at the command and grabbed his sister-in-law by the wrist in a gentle clasp. With a grace that even Severus couldn't muster, he managed to lead Bella away. Once they were out of earshot, Rodolphous once more turned to face Severus. "Rodolphous, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Severus asked smoothly.

Tonight's meeting, had taken place in the crypt of an old and abandoned monastery. Most of the other Death Eaters in attendance had already apparated to their homes or perhaps even their work. However, Severus had been amongst the last to exit the crypt, and was barely making his way up the stairs when he was suddenly accosted. As it was, he and Rodolphous stood at the top of the stairs in a small, and dank little stone room. Bellatrix and Rabastan had already disappeared beyond the entrance, where a door clung to its hinges crookedly, made of wood that had rotted long ago.

"There is a topic of much interest that I wanted to touch with you," Rodolphous said as he moved into the small room and removed his mask while taking out his wand. Severus, who was very tense from the start, didn't relax and watched with a calculating gaze as the man before him placed silencing charms on the room, which was barely lit by a few torches that had been lit before they had arrived.

"Oh?" Severus asked, sounding slightly intrigued as Rodolphous rounded on him. In the dim light, Severus took the opportunity to really see the man before him. Azkaban had changed him, but Severus was rather impressed that in the three months since his escape, that Rodolphous was starting to look like the man he had once been.

His now gaunt face, was filling in. Like in the past, Rodolphous kept a neat and trimmed full beard that connected with his mustache. His dark brown hair, which in the darkness of this room looked pitch- black, was straight and had been cut shot and parted down the middle. His dark eyes, looked sunken into his head, but were alive and as hungry as he remembered them. Azkaban, had done nothing to erase his rugged, handsome and yet noble appearance. Even the muscular chest and arms were filling in.

Seeing that Rodolphous was waiting for him, Severus removed his mask. "Well? As much as I do enjoy seeing in you again, Rodolphous, I do have to return to the castle."

"That's precisely what I wanted to talk to you about," Rodolphous said, smiling and showing his canines, which to Severus had always seemed too long. A Lestrange trait surely, as Rabastan and even Tracey were the same. Although Tracey's teeth, unlike her relatives', were a bit crooked in an oddly adorable way.

"You see, in all the years I spent rotting in my cell the only thing that gnawed at my inside about wasting away in there, was the thought that every year spent there, was another year wasted, another year without an heir to my name," Rodolphous started, beginning to pace around the rom and speaking with that frightening intensity that few had ever seen. Severus certainly had never seen it. Yes, he'd seen it plenty in Rabastan, who was at times given to mercurial flights. But Rodolphous had always seemed coldly detached.

"You can perhaps imagine," and at this Rodolphous paused and looked at him and sneered with superiority that all purebloods felt, "Or perhaps not, what it is for you to know that your family name will die with you. You see before the Dark Lord fell I was staring to think that it was time to start my own family. Bellatrix, was completely against it. She wanted more time, and I was in no rush. But those last months went by in a flash and then I was in Azkaban.

"I would have gone mad in that cell thinking I'd lost all opportunity for it, if I didn't remember that sixteen to seventeen years ago I felt the itch that married men get, from sleeping with the same woman for years," Severus felt disgust at this, but remained impassive. He could already see where this conversation was going. He wasn't sure why he ever believed for a moment that Tracey could be Rabastan's. She was more like Rodolphous.

She was bossy, dominant and immovable as he was. The imperious tone that more often than not crept into her words. Her upright, dignified and nearly noble bearing. The quiet intensity that she almost always radiated without being aware of it. Yes, he had seen her sullen, bordering on being unbalanced as Rabastan had been. But upon seeing Rodolphous pacing around, radiating anger and agitation kept tightly contained, Severus could see it more clearly that it came from Rodolphous.

"So you see Severus, as soon as I got out, I had Avery track down the women who may have become pregnant in that period of time. I would have done it myself, if I were at liberty to, but alas," Rodolphous was saying. Severus realized he had missed a piece of the story, but it didn't sound like anything important. He watched as Rodolphous reached in his pocket. "Only one turned up. This one is mine, I can feel it in my veins," he said as he held something out to Severus.

Severus took the scrap of paper and realized belatedly it was a photograph. His eyes, well-adjusted to the darkness, could make out the subject with clarity and was unsurprised by who stared back at him, the expression on her face a transitory one. He could see the thin brows beginning to move towards one another. Tracey's mouth was caught, just opening, the lips just parting a centimeter or two. Her dark eyes, were sharp and hardening.

The background was green, a park it seemed. Tracey was some way away from the photographer, whom she had just turned to look at when the photo was snapped. She was wearing a t-shirt, and a pair of shorts that didn't come halfway down her thigh. Severus would be uncomfortable with the amount of pale skin he could see in the photo, if his eyes were not focused on the look on the girls face, or the way that the sun seemed to fall and illuminate her hair and eyes. He almost wanted to gasp. He could see tinges of dark red in her dark tresses and in her eyes he could see hints of olive green in them.

In the photo, she couldn't have been much younger than she was now. He imagined the picture had taken the year before. It seemed to Severus that perhaps it had been taken on a picnic. Perhaps a family outing, as it seemed to him that Tracey barely had any friends at school. He doubted she had any at home.

"But you can't be sure," Severus said drily.

"Well thats partly why I wanted to speak to you, you can make sure with a Paternity test. After all you're the grand Potions Master," Rodolphous said with a bit of an ironic edge to his tone as he pulled a vial from his pocket and handed it to Severus. "She's at Hogwarts, I'm sure you must know her. I imagine her last name is Davis, like her mother. Unfortunately Avery was in such a hurry, he killed the woman before she gave him very much information on her. As soon as he ascertained she had a child the age one of mine would be, he killed her. Not my plan originally, but it's true she's had far too much time already corrupting her with muggle nonsense," Rodolphous prattled on.

He took back the photo and looked down at it, not sounding at all remorseful that he had inadvertently cost the life of the woman who had given him his only offspring. But Severus was not surprised by that. Instead, Severus cast a curious glance at the vial Rodolphous had given him and found it contained a lock of hair, before placing it in his pocket.

"And?" Severus asked coolly, causing Rodolphous to look up at him with those eyes of him that pulsed with an odd, almost maniacal adoration.

"I'm anxious to know with absolute certainty that she's mine, and know more about her. I want to know what to expect. I've missed nearly sixteen years of her life. I wrote her once, but with Dumbledore gone, the mail is probably checked and might not get to her if I attempted to write again," Rodolphous said.

"Well to tell you the truth, Rodolphous, I don't know her very much. She's a very quiet girl and keeps to herself. All I can really tell you is that her name is Tracey, she does well academically, and she's shown great aptitude for magic," Severus said, not wishing to give up too much information on her, without knowing Rodolphous' reasons. Sure he was her father, but Severus had it very present in mind that the man was a Death Eater loyal to the Dark Lord and very dangerous.

"You seem to know quite a lot about her, Severus," Rodolphous said, narrowing his gaze suspiciously at Severus, who he thought was holding out on information.

"Its the bare minimum, which I must be aware of as her Head of House," Severus replied. At the mention of this, he could see the look of pride that came into Rodolphous eyes.

"She's a Slytherin," he said, almost a whisper and more to himself than to Severus. Severus merely nodded in response, while eyeing the man opposite him, weighing his options. He wanted to ask Rodolphous what he wanted with Tracey, why the ardent interest, but he wasn't sure how to phrase it, or how to explain his own interest. Instead, he thought of another tact to draw him out.

"Does Bellatrix know you had a child outside your matrimony, because I can't imagine she'd be pleased or very accepting of it," Severus said coolly, to which Rodolphous sneered before laughing, that deep and rich sound that rumbled deep from his chest but still somehow contained cold malice.

"Bella will find out soon, and whatever she may feel on the matter, doesn't much concern me. The girl carries my family's blood, and she will be a Lestrange, no matter who I must break to obtain it, even if its the girl herself," Rodolphous said in that arrogant and willful tone of his, turning away, apparently concluding this conversation.

XX

When Severus arrived at the castle, he felt exhausted. After being interrogated by Umbridge about his departure, he was livid. When he headed down the dungeons and came across the Baron, he was at his wits end. "Bloody hell what now?" he muttered to himself as he approached the ghost of Slytherin. "Baron?"

It was long past midnight and for a moment, Severus wondered if ghost ever slept. "That girl, Tracey. She destroyed the light fixtures of Slytherin," the Baron stated, getting straight to the point.

"What?" Severus snapped, stopping and looking at the ghost who had been floating beside him. This was not what he expected to return to when he got back to the castle. All he'd wanted was to crash on his bed, and perhaps have a drink, to relax his extremely tense and tight muscles and get his mind to stop thinking about Tracey and her parentage and what he was supposed to tell Rodolphous about it.

Before the Baron said anything more, Severus started to walk very quickly towards Slytherin. "The House elves are already clearing the glass and installing new lamps," the Baron said.

"Where's Miss Davis?" Severus snarled.

"In all probability, sleeping."

Severus stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. That girl was a damn problem, he thought wearily. He'd never had a Slytherin student that caused him so much damn trouble. "How do you know it was her? And what excuse did she have?"

"Well the lamps were all broken when I arrived. She was the only student in the common room, and she had her wand out. If thats not incriminating enough, she didn't even bother to deny her culpability. In fact, she admitted it and without an ounce of regret for what she had done, or an excuse."

Severus wondered what the hell was wrong with the girl. She was already in trouble. He warned her not to do anything that would make him expel her, and that was the first thing she did. Did she want to be bloody expelled? Or did she really think that he wouldn't go through with his plan. "Very well, I'll deal with her first thing in the morning," Severus said, heading instead to his private quarters while wondering what to do now.

He was sorely tempted to drag her ass out of bed and expel her and send her straight home at this very instant. However, he wasn't sure about doing that. It would in all probability endanger her. Rodolphous was dead set on claiming his paternity to her and molding her as he pleased. Severus couldn't sever her up to him on a silver platter.

Besides if he let her out of the castle, Rodolphous could easily get to her and do the paternity test on his own and if, by some chance she wasn't his daughter, he'd probably kill the girl and say he had just rid the world of another muggle born. Although, Severus very much doubted that she was not Rodolphous' child. He had every intention of running the paternity test, though he hadn't strictly planned on telling Rodolphous the result whatever they were.

Severus sighed as he finally got into his rooms. He poured himself a stiff drink, before allowing his weary frame to sink into an armchair. He couldn't expel the girl, he knew that. She wasn't safe outside the castle and Severus couldn't abide her death of anything that could happen to her to rest on his conscious. Since he'd turned spy, he'd try to spare as many people as he could. Tracey, because he knew her and had been her Professor for five years and she was more or less his responsibility, wasn't just anyone. If he failed her, he wouldn't be able to live with it. He already had several deaths weighing heavily on his consciousness. He didn't want to add another.

**TBC...**

**A/: Please Review!**


	10. Compromising

**Difficult**

"_If I should tumble, If I should fall  
Would anyone hear me screamin' _

_Behind these castle walls.  
Behind these castle walls,_

_There's no one here at all._

_No one knows I'm all alone,  
Living in this castle made of stone."_

-TI feat. Christina Aguilera, Castle Walls

_**Chapter 10: Compromising**_

"_Tracey, get up now. It's past noon already."_

"_So? It's summer vacation, there's nowhere for me to go," Tracey mumbled from beneath the pillow, which was promptly yanked from atop her head. "Fuck mother!" she yelled angrily, sitting up and rubbing her suddenly stinging eyes as the bright sun wafted in from the window. She glared at her mother accusingly, knowing she was the one that had yanked the drapes open. _

"_Watch your language, Tracey! How many times do I have to tell you? And I don't care that its late, you're getting up now. Your room can use some cleaning. I won't have you sleeping in Marie's room anymore. You have your own room for a reason."_

_Tracey glared at her mother who was standing at the door of the room. Since Marie's death, she rarely ever stepped in it. Only to dust it and air it out now on then, but other than that she left it alone. Never moving anything. Tracey knew her mother resented her presence in Marie's space as though she were erasing Marie's memory just by invading her space. _

_Grudgingly Tracey got up. "My room's fine, its not dirty."_

"_What do you call all those stacks of books all over the place, I can hardly move around it without knocking a stack over."_

_Tracey stopped in front of her mother, suddenly glaring at her. "What were you doing in my room?" she asked accusingly. She had expressly told her mother countless times to stay out of her room. "You know I don't like you in there!"_

"_And you know I don't like you in here! What do you think Marie would say?"_

"_You treat this place like a damn crypt you're afraid of disturbing. Guess what, Marie's dead! She's been dead for three years, she's gone and she doesn't fucking care about this room. In fact she hated this place so much she couldn't wait to fucking leave!"_

_Tracey felt the sting on her cheek before she really knew it was coming. It rung in her ear long after it happened, and felt the sting on her cheek like a burn long after that. However, she merely turned to her mother and glared. "I HATE you," she said in a low tone through gritted teeth, her tone dripping with loathing as she glared daggers at her mother. _

_Shoving past her, Tracey made her way to her room and slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. She turned and stumbled a bit over a stack of text books next to her door. Suddenly, she felt so angry, she started going around the room, kicking various stacks all over the place over. When she was finished, she was panting for breath and sinking onto her bed._

_Belatedly, she touched her cheeks and realized there was moisture on them. Hot tears of anger and her wounded pride, not to mention indignation and deep rooted resentment that was never going to go away. _

The sound of wrenching curtains came slowly and startled her into consciousness. It took her a moment to realize she was waking, and another to realize what had woken her. By then, her body had already wrenched her so she was sitting upright, rubbing sleep from her eyes. For a moment, her brow furrowed when she felt moisture beneath them.

Her eyes slightly bleary and struggling to see in the artificial light, she realized they were filled with tears. Her mind struggled to recall her dream, but it was fast escaping, slipping as though smoke through her fingers. She was only aware that she felt a terrible amount of guilt, and like the air was struggling to come back into her lungs, grief having stole it all from her in one gasp.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and drew her knees up a bit. She then loosely draped an arm around her knees, leaned her forehead on them. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply as her reality settled back in, the nightmare she called her daily life. She remembered who she was, how old she was, and how utterly alone she was in the world.

Sometimes, just as she woke, she briefly felt as though she were younger, and all the things that had actually happened where a nightmare she was now awaking from. All too soon, she knew that was probably just a foolish wish of her heart to return to a time when things were simpler and she felt stupid for believing even for one delusive second that it wasn't so.

_AHEM._

Tracey froze at the rather loud and male-sounding clearing of a throat. For a moment, her heart pounded hard, knowing it could only be one person, as boys weren't allowed into the girls dormitories. There was a barrier on the entrance to the girl dorms that zapped any boy that even came near it with enough electric juice to make them pass out.

Schooling her expression to one of cold resentment, Tracey turned her head to look at Professor Snape. The memories of last night quickly came back to her and she had to steel herself for what she knew must come.

"Nothing would please me more than to expel you," he said coldly as he looked down his hooked nose at her, his eyes cool and calculating. "However, considering your particular circumstance, by which I do not necessarily mean the recent loss of your mother, I can not in good consciousness leave you to fend for yourself in the world. It would be like sending a lamb, straight into a wolves den."

"What are you talking about?" Tracey asked, frowning; she'd been prepared for whatever Snape might do, but she hadn't expected this.

Severus chose to ignore her question. "Being as detentions with me seem to be rather ineffective, I'll be handing you over for an hour each evening to Filch. I'm sure he'll find use for you. You see Tracey, despite the fact that I won't expel you, I expect you to behave at the level of someone in Slytherin. Even Crabbe and Goyle aren't stupid enough to carry on in the way you do in front of figures of authority. _They_ hold their tongue when necessary. Also, as a fifth year, I think you're a little too old to be throwing tantrums like a toddler-"

"I-"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!" he hissed suddenly at her, glaring. Tracey grudgingly closed her mouth and stared at him, waiting for him to go on. "Good girl. Furthermore, beside your serious curb in attitude and etiquette, I expect your academic performance to improve. You will obtain nothing but top marks from this point forth, do you understand?"

"I don't care if you expel me, so why should I do anything?" Tracey snapped.

"Because your life depends on your education," he said flatly.

Tracey raised a brow. "Isn't that a bit dramatic?"

"Have you not realized yet, girl, that there is a war starting?"

"What's your point? It doesn't particularly affect me, more than the next person. And you've been trying to expel Harry Potter for years, and I think his life is a little more at stake then mine. Hasn't stopped you from trying to kick him out of school," Tracey shot back.

Severus decided to ignore that remark about Potter. "You're not just any other student either, Miss Davis."

Tracey didn't like the tone of that, though she wasn't sure quite why. "Why not? What makes me any different?"

"You don't think your mother being a casualty set you apart from fellow Slytherins?"

Tracey felt a sharp pang of guilt, which she'd been feeling since waking, suddenly spike. The look of her mother's face when she'd told her she hated her, like she'd her heart ripped form her chest, made her own heart pang in her chest. "But... I thought it was just that, a random casualty. Why would anyone target her?"

"Maybe if you prove to me you are worthy of being trusted as an adult, I'll enlighten you a bit. Until then, just do as I've told you," Severus responded coldly, before turning and marching away, ignoring her as she called after him. He'd said all that he'd planned to say, and before even waking her, taken some hairs from her hairbrush for the paternity test, so he left without so much as looking back. He knew the girl would need time to think, and he expected she was smart enough to comply.

XX

"Hey Tracey. Where have you been? Haven't seen you around lately," Blaise said when Tracey turned up in the common room after dinner. It felt like it was the first time he had seen her outside of classes in days.

Tracey barely gave Blaise a look. Looking at him these days just made her angry. After all, it was his fault she was in trouble in the first place. "I don't have time to talk," Tracey said coldly, brushing past him. However, she didn't get anywhere as he felt his hand gently take her wrist. She turned and yanked it away from him. "DON"T TOUCH ME!" she snarled.

"What is your bloody problem?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "I'm just trying to talk to you."

"I've been in detention, that's where I have been, and its all your fucking fault. Couldn't just leave me alone could you?" she said scathingly.

Blaise frowned at this. Tracey merely turned around and started marching away. She had detention with Filch to get to, something she rather loathed. She couldn't believe she was going through with it, but she had spent the entire day in bed brooding, thinking. In the end, she realized she had no other choice. She needed to know what Snape knew, and how the hell else was she to do that without complying with his demands?

However, the entire situation made her feel sick. She was a puppet fate seemed to hate and treated her only with cruelty. Now, for whatever reason, she was at the mercy of Professor Snape. All she wanted was a little bit of freedom, and it felt like all her struggling against her bindings, made them close tighter around her. What good was it to be willful, if either way, all you were was just another fly caught in vast and massive web?

As Tracey worked through her detention sullenly, she wished she could run away from it all. Belatedly she realized that she wanted to be expelled because then she wouldn't be running away, but all the same she would be able to get away. She would achieve that freedom she longed for at long last, without being a coward about it.

Though she loathed to think of it, there was another option too, that she still rather pondered. An out, so many others sought, that she loathed to think of because it meant she was weak, just like Marie. Well she refused to be that weak. And yet, like a mantra, old words came back to her. They were not her own, and yet they were there ingrained, repeating itself obsessively in her mind.

_To be or not to be, that is the question; whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them._ She thought it, while unconsciously and mechanically going on with the task set to her. She was unaware of the set expression on her face, which was distant and dark. A mask of cold anger.

_To die- to sleep, no more; and by sleep say we end the heart-ache and thousand natural shocks the body is heir to, 'tis a consumption devoutly to be wish'd._

_To die- to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream- ay there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause- _here Tracey always seemed to pause. Here she always seemed to have to start over. The rest of the soliloquy ran into each other. The words slipped from her tongue, trapped somewhere in her brain. Lost in there somewhere.

To be or not to be? Tracey wondered if Marie had even asked herself that? Had her hand trembled at all to take her own life? Had she been scared at all?

_To be or not to be, that is the question; whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune-_

Outrageous fortune. There was nothing outrageous about Marie's fortune. She'd been the lucky one. She had all of mother's love and adoration. Fate had gifted her with a talent with music that few had ever or would ever posses. What right had she to complain at all for the fortune she'd been given? What right had she to run away?

"I said your time's up, girl," Filch said, snatching the cloth form her hand. Tracey snapped out of her thoughts and merely looked at Filch, her eyes slowly focusing. She nodded before her brain caught up and started moving down the ladder she was on. Without paying much mind to where she was going, she made her way toward the dungeons, her mind already lost once more in her thoughts.

To sleep, perchance to dream... Tracey had enough of dreams. They were all terrible. Every last one of them she could ever remember. She was better off not dreaming of anything. In fact, she was content on any day she felt she hadn't dreamt at all.

Tracey ran a hand through her hair, wondering why she was thinking of it at all. She didn't want to think about Marie anymore. She didn't have room inside her head anymore to think of nonsense that was long past. Marie was gone, just like mother was now. There were other things she had to think of. More important things to worry about.

What the hell was Snape talking about? What did her mother's death really mean? What did it mean for Tracey, apart form the fact that she had no parental figure? What did it have to do with her survival? Why did Snape even care if she lived or died?

She was so consumed by these thoughts, that she hadn't even realized she had made it to Professor Snape's office, or that she had walked in. For his part, Severus had been staring at a vial in his hand, grimacing when the girl had come in. He had been so absorbed in it, that he didn't notice her quiet entrance, or her standing there for a minute.

The potion used to run a paternity test, was simple to do and easy to read. Once you added the last ingredients, essence of the pair in question, you had to wait only ten minutes for the response. If the potion turned ruby red, the match was a true match. If nothing whatsoever happened, then the pair in question were not progenitor and offspring.

The vial he held, was as red as he'd expected it to be. However, he was surprised to find that a tiny part of him had hoped that he was wrong. But the paternity test was infallible, and the vial was red as a rose petal, red as a pomegranate seed, red as blood.

Tracey was Rodolphous Lestrage's daughter, his only child. Raising his eyes, he was startled to see Tracey there and the vial almost slipped form his grasp. However, he clutched it more tightly before shoving it into his pocket. It took him a moment of looking at her, to realize that she wasn't all there, and there was nothing he had to worry about. She hadn't seen him. Although if she had, he supposed it wouldn't really matter unless she knew what the potion was, or that she was at all connected to it.

Her eyes were unfocused and though staring before her, they weren't looking at anything around her. Severus found himself wondering for a moment, what she was thinking. The expression on her face was so lost, that he was painfully reminded that she was so young. Too young to deal with the weight of the load set on her shoulders.

"Miss Davis, you're late," he called out coldly. He watched her for response. He expected she'd be startled out of her thoughts. However, she was so consumed by them that her eyes focused very slowly before drifting over to him. The look in them, was more haunted than he felt comfortable with. Her face was suddenly blank of all expression, but for her eyes.

In his office, they looked as dark as his. However, he recalled the picture, and knew that was only the effect of the lack of light in their surrounding. He knew that her eyes were really an olive green. "I'm sorry. I stayed longer with Mr. Filch, I hadn't realized my detention with him was up," she said. Though the words were polite and meant to be contrite, they lacked any sincerity as they were delivered in deadpan.

Severus expected to see a flash of anger in her eyes, but they remained dull. It appeared that she was far too tired to be resentful of her pride being abused like this, but there was no reaction to her at all. Her eyes had become dull and lifeless. Her face remained a mask of only weariness, if anything at all. Once more, he felt like he was staring at just a shell of what Tracey was, and he felt uncomfortable.

"Very well, have a seat," he said, motioning to the seat in front of his desk. She walked over, as if floating, before slowly seating herself and turning her darkened eyes back to him. Severus sat behind his desk before setting a stack of papers before her and another sheet of parchment. "There is a inkwell and quill ready for you. You will be grading essays by first years. That parchment holds instructions for what you are to look for and do. However, you will not be scoring them. I will go through them later and score them myself."

"Sir?" Tracey asked, a pinch of curiosity in her voice as her eyes suddenly came alive, and a sleek brow arched over one eye.

"Would you prefer to be collecting bubotuber pus? Or dissecting black beetles? Or something else like that?"

Tracey merely shook her head and set herself to task. By the end of the detention she remembered absolutely everything having to do with the Forgetfulness Potion and her hand was cramping from circling, and correcting and scratching out a whole bunch of papers. Her eyes too, were stinging. She felt so dreadfully tired. Throughout the last few essays, she kept yawning and having to rub the sleep from her eyes. She was far too aware that she hadn't been sleeping particularly well. Not that she ever really did.

When the detention was finally over, she couldn't help glaring at Snape. She really did hate the man. She half suspected he was working her to the bone so she could die an early death. However, she didn't say anything to him. Merely waited quietly, glaring at him and wondering if she could plot his death, until he finally dismissed her. To which she merely nodded and dragged her weary carcass to bed.

The only good thing that came of the detentions making her so damn tired, was that she fell asleep right away. Whether or not she was able to stay asleep, depended on whether or not she dreamt.

**TBC...**

**A/n: **Please review and tell me what you think of the chapter.


	11. Career Advice

**Difficult**

"_So here we are again, same old argument and now I'm wondering, if things will ever change."_

-Good Charlotte, Say Anything

_**Chapter 11: Career Advice **_

Snape worked her to the bone, throughout the holidays and he didn't let up once school started or eased off at all. Tracey wasn't in a very good mood by the time she had her career advice meeting when it finally came up, the first week back to school. She merely sat gingerly, before leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest, refusing to look at Snape. She fear it she looked at him, she would do something stupid, and made the hell he was putting her through even worse.

She'd had half her mind to not go at all. However, she supposed at least it got her out of Herbology. She honestly loathed the class with a fervor and she wasn't too fond of Professor Sprout either. She wasn't sure why, but she suspected the woman delighted in knocking all the Slytherin's down a peg.

For his part, Severus wasn't particularly looking forward to the girls meeting. He felt that he was spending far too much time with her as it was and despite the curve in her attitude, whenever he was around her he knew she was seething. He could feel the anger, like white hot air, pressing in all around him. It was quite suffocating. And though she hissed at him _yes sirs, _he could hear the contempt in her voice and hate in her eyes when she glowered at him. He supposed that was just the thanks he got for trying to save her wretched little life.

"This meeting Miss Davis, is to discuss which careers you would be interested in to decide which classes you will need to take for your NEWTs classes. Being as you know how I feel about your marks, I'm sure you will get all your OWLs and that I don't need to tell you which classes you need to improve on," Severus started crisply. All the while, he eyed Tracey with disdain, as she was seated leisurely in the chair across his desk, studying her nails with a look of extreme boredom. "Now, I am sure you have noticed the pamphlets in the common room, and have perused them, as you are not an imbecile. Are there any careers that sparked your interest?"

"Actually, _professor, _I've been too busy to waste time on anything, other than my studies. And being as these detentions you have me going to every evening take up so much of my time, I spend what little is left of it to do my homework and sleep," Tracey said in a cool and mocking tone, all the while not looking over at him once.

Severus felt the heat under his skin rise as he stared at the girl. "I will not be condescended to by the likes of you," Severus hissed as he stood.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry Professor. I didn't mean to sound condescending," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice as she looked up at him, twisting her face to look at him in contrition. However, he could see the turn in the corner of her mouth, and see the malicious twinkle in her dark eyes.

"YOU-"

Tracey got to her feet, "Thats what you wanted isn't it?" she said loudly, raising her voice only enough to be louder than him and cutting him off completely. Severus furrowed a brow.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped, beyond annoyed with the girl.

"_I expect you to behave at the level of someone in Slytherin," _Tracey parroted with a look of disgust, spitting his words back at him. "And what level is that, _Professor_? I suppose you mean the lowest of lows. Well I know how to reach it and its by playing underhanded games, having no morals or ethics and being false! And believe me, I can play that game well enough. I could be a master at it, in fact. But I don't want to be like that."

Severus straightened as throughout her hate-filled rant, she had leaned over his desk and as he'd already been doing that, their faces had come closer than he felt comfortable with. "Well sometimes Miss Davis, there is very little choice. And for your sake, I hope you never have to find out why."

Tracey huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't sure why, but at his words, all the fight went out of her. Not because she thought that he had a point, but because his even tone and words, sounded like he really only wanted for her to be safe. "What do you know, Professor? Why are you so concerned on what could or could not happen to me once I leave the school?" she asked, looking at him.

"I've already told you-"

"I know, I remember very well what you said. But here you are asking me to swallow my pride AND take a leap of faith. I think I deserve a little more in return," Tracey stated.

"I'm already trying to keep you safe and not expelled you from this school, what more do you want?"

"Well I never asked you for any of it. I told you to just expel me," Tracey said, feeling like they were going in circles. "I'm working myself to exhaustion, only because I want some information from you. But I don't really care about my life, its a piece of shit anyway. Why do _you_ care so much about it? What's it to you if I live of die?"

Severus glared at the girl. It really was a question he asked himself more and more these days. What was it to him if Tracey Davis came to a bad end by her biological father's hands, ungrateful and difficult as she was. He really shouldn't even bother. But he knew he could no more leave her to her fate, than he could hand her over himself to the Lestrange's.

"Like it or not, you are my student and in my House. You are my responsibility and unlike the rest of your Housemates, you have no parents to look out for you. The one you did have, muggle as she was, was not fit to look out for your safety in our world," he said softly, not wishing to put a harsh tone to harsh words. It would be hard enough for the girl to hear, without him making it worse. But it was the truth, and she needed to hear it. Maybe it would even soften that damnable stubborn will of hers.

Tracey felt her heart clench at this and did her best not to let her pain show on her face, not to Snape. It was bad enough he had seen her reduced to tears on more than occasion. She could not bear to have him see her weak again. However, she felt tired. Slowly she sunk into the chair opposite of him and gazed around the office, thinking.

"A Death Eater killed her, to get to me," Tracey stated slowly. She hadn't ever said it aloud, but that was what Snape had lead her to believe without ever explicitly saying so. She didn't know why a Death Eater would know about her, much less why one would care to get to her. She was only a fifth year Hogwarts student. And she had no money, nor was she of a pureblood family. What did they want with her? Slowly, she turned to look at Snape and found him staring at her in that calculating way of his. Her gaze hardened as she looked at him. "What makes you believe they want me? I think I deserve to know that much."

"And I've told you, I'll tell you when I think you deserve to know," he responded coolly.

"And I've told you, I've already swallowed my pride and showed you some faith by even bothering to agree to your demands. I think I've earned something in return. Besides, April is soon coming to an end. There are only about six weeks left before OWLs, and after that, home. I don't think this war will be over by then. We are running out of time, and you're wasting what's left of it with these stupid detentions you've assigned."

Severus chose to ignore that last part, but the girl did have a point. School would be coming to a close very soon. He didn't know whether Dumbledore had set about any precautionary measures for Tracey, he was a busy man after all. Tracey would more likely have to fend for herself. He needed her to be able to defend herself and he didn't even know if the girl could duel or not.

Girls rarely got into dueling matches with one another in halls, much less Slytherin girls. If they took issue with one another, they tended to tear the girl down with words, not spells. And in her second year, Tracey had perhaps been the only person in the whole school who had not cared one wit about participating in the dueling club. He supposed the only measure of her talent with spells and charms were her scores on class work, but that was not the same. It was one thing to be able to perform a spell in class. It was another to have to do it while thinking on your feet, moving quickly, and defending yourself. The pressure could be too much.

However, there was nothing really that he could divulge to her, that would not alert her to the fact that he himself was a Death Eater. Considering that she knew that a Death Eater had killed her mother, that wouldn't make her trust him. And he wasn't sure if he could trust her enough to tell her that he was a spy for Dumbledore. After all if Rodolphous did get to her, it would be a liability for her to know where his allegiance was.

"Very well. Your detentions with Filch are done. Instead I expect you back here. You need to learn to duel, and perhaps there is more I will be able able to teach you," he said sitting back down. Tracey merely nodded, not sure there was really anything left for her to say. It was not what she had bargained for, but she supposed that it would have to do. "And now, back to what we were originally here for-"

"There is nothing that interests me, Professor Snape," Tracey said, this time excluding any intonation in the word Professor.

"You should think about it. You won't be a student forever."

"No, but a lot could happen in two years," Tracey responded. Severus was about to open his mouth, but Tracey raised her hand to stop him. "But I will take into advisement. I'll look through the pamphlets some time. Considering that I will be seeing a lot of you in the next couple months, I think this meeting could be postponed to a later date."

Severus sighed and nodded. The girl sounded so diplomatic that he would have praised her, if he wasn't annoyed with the fact that she had somehow taken the reigns of this meeting. He was the Professor, not her!

"Indeed. You're dismissed."

Tracey stood slowly and nodded. "Am I to come here, after dinner?" she asked before taking her leave. Severus grimaced at the prospect of having to see her again. She was so tiring. He really didn't want to deal with her again. However, there wasn't enough time. If he was going to prepare her, he needed all the time he had left with her.

"Yes. If anyone bothers to ask, you'll be attending detention," he said, motioning she could leave.

Tracey nodded in response. After all, according the to High Inquisitor, teachers were not supposed to teach students things that did not concern their subjects. She somehow doubted whatever Snape had in mind would have anything to do with Potions. "Well, good afternoon Professor," Tracey said, turning and heading out the door.

Severus watched the girl leave with a furrowed brow. What was it about her grace that bothered him so, he wondered briefly after the door had closed behind her. However, he was more astonished by her tone and words. How had he managed to make her a little more pliable? It baffled him. Sighing heavily, he supposed that he really shouldn't complain.

XX

Tracey flew and fell on her back, panting. She grit her teeth, when the spell managed to get past her barrier and hit her square in the chest. She knew landing on the hard ground would wind her, and she was not about to gasp or groan in pain. As soon as she landed, she rolled over and got to her feet and put up another ward. She barely missed a spell sent by her opponent while she was on the ground, and the shield had only gone up, before another one of his spells crashed into it.

_A Death Eater won't fight fair, so he will not stop his attack even if you've are knocked down, or have your back to him. _Snape had said that to her, on their first Dueling lesson. That night, he had been unmerciful, testing her skills. By the end of the night, she had felt bruises all over her body, and felt her muscles twitching with exhaustion. Her head even cracked open a bit in the back, and she'd felt a bit of blood there, from one of the times she had been tossed off her feet. By the time she had been able to crawl into bed, she had learned a new meaning to the word pain. But it hadn't been for nothing.

Snape had told her that she had a high threshold for pain and that it was good, because she would need it. He also told her that her gracefulness was good trait to have, as it lent her speed. More than anything he was impressed with the fact she could perform nonverbal spells, something that Tracey hadn't even been aware of as being a difficult task. Over all he had said that she was better than he had expected. Something of a compliment coming from Snape, and something she hadn't ever received from him in Potions.

They dueled in one of the dungeons, one that was large enough to resemble the Great Hall. Tracey had never come across it, and she wondered how that was. The room was HUGE, hard to miss. However, it had taken quite a labyrinth of halls to get to it, so it was really no surprise.

Big as it was, and buried so deep under ground, it was also cold, dark and damp. A dozen torches wouldn't have managed to light the room up. Professor Snape had to use a spell, that kept a roaring fire lined up all along the walls and burning bright the whole time they dueled. The first time Tracey had seen it, she felt trapped and extremely wary of the flames.

What if Snape weren't able to keep them controlled, they could burn alive. And what if a spell went wrong, and she was accidentally tossed into the fire. It never really crossed her mind, that one of her own spells could knock Professor Snape out, and spell out doom. After all, after her first match against him, she found that he was a lot more apt at Dueling than she had ever thought possible.

After all, he was the Potions Master. She had grown to think that those who could not really do magic, often excelled in subjects were very little magic was used at all, like Potions and Herbology. She was sorely wrong, she found. At least in Snape's case.

However, she didn't begrudge him the nightly beatings, or bruises. It was all making her stronger. She could feel herself vastly improved after several weeks, though she couldn't tell from the day to day. But more than improving her skill at being quick and learning to tolerate and roll with the duel, he had taught her spells she had never thought to learn.

She was quite sure that by the standards of many of the Wizarding World, that some of the magic he was teaching her was considered the Dark Arts. However, Tracey didn't see the world so black and white. She rather thought that there was some magic, that depended on the witch and wizard who was using them and his or her intentions.

Of course, that didn't mean she thought that there was magic, that was not wholly evil. The Inferi, for example. Morally, she thought it was disgusting to use the corpses of people in such a manner. The dead should be allowed to rest, not used as macabre puppets to do someone's bidding. However, she was aware that the Dark Lord did not respect the dead, anymore than he respected the living.

Tracey ducked when the next spell raced towards her and shot one of her own, followed immediately by another. Most of the time, she found it easier to side-step spells, rather than put up a shield to block. Putting up shields took up time that she could use to discharged an offensive spell. However, injuries made dancing around in circles around her opponent difficult. As it was, her left knee still pained from a leg-locking jinx Snape had hit her with earlier that week.

The third she managed to shoot off, hit Snape in the stomach, making him double over. She took the opportunity to disarm him sending him sprawling onto his back, while his wand went sailing through the air. She jumped up and hurtled towards the wand and caught in her left hand.

_Even after disarming your opponent, you don't stop._ She remembered this and proceeded to run to him before he could get up. She straddled his chest and jabbed her wand into his throat. Severus groaned when he felt her weight constricting his lungs, and felt the hard tip of wood against his jugular. He looked up at Tracey, her hair wild about her and lose. She was panting for breath, with her eyes locked on him. Her hand was steady, and there was no mercy in her eyes. Severus felt himself smile.

"Very good, Miss Davis," Severus said, wondering if he should call her off. This wasn't the first time that she had disarmed him, but it was the first time she had followed through. A lesson he had to really hammer into her. For a moment, he considered calling her off, but instead decided test her to see where she would go with this. Not all Death Eaters fought merely with their wands.

Before the girl could react, he shoved the hand holding her wand to his throat out of the way and managed to pin it under his arm, while with the other he grabbed her free arm and held it. Being that she was so light and he caught her off guard, he managed to buck her off his chest and rolled them over. He then quickly scrambled up her body and used his own to pin her down.

"Unless you plan to go through with maiming, killing or otherwise incapacitating your opponent, its best you stay out of arms reach of them," he said as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Unless my opponent is a man," she gritted out when she saw that there would be no wiggling out from under his iron grasp. To emphasize her point, she dangerously pressed her leg to where his groin would be as her knee was unable to reach. Snape immediately stood up and walked away from her.

"Yes well... I think you did fine for today," he said, indicating that it was the end of their dueling practice for this evening. Tracey got to her feet and watched as Professor Snape straightened his robes and averted his eyes from her. It was hard to tell by the light of the fire that created almost a ring about them, but it seemed to her like he was blushing. She smiled slightly in amusement at this. She supposed he'd never expected that she would threaten his manhood. She wondered how he would have reacted if she had actually just kneed him in the groin. She suspected he would have been pissed, after he finished rolling around and holding himself.

Tracey walked closer to him and held out his wand to him, which he took without thanking her or even looking at her. Instead, he turned away from her and waved it at the fire. Most of it went out immediately, leaving them in semi-darkness. However, Snape left a one side lit up, so that they weren't in complete darkness. "Have you been practicing your Occlumency?" he asked as he did at the end over every evening, with Tracey he found he didn't need quite such a hands on approach as he did with Potter, she was a natural at it. Tracey merely nodded. "Well then-"

"I've given some thought, these last few weeks, on what I might like to do when I finish school," Tracey said, interrupting Snape before he dismissed her.

"Oh, and what is that?" he asked as he stared at her with a raised brow, intrigued by not only the fact that she had brought up the subject but by the revelation that she had thought of it at all.

Tracey bit on her lip, unsure if she should really say. What if he mocked her? However, she shoved this aside. Since their chat during the career advice meeting, he'd become a lot more tolerable than she remembered him being. Besides, she had brought it up. If she didn't say now, he would bug her about it, maybe even tease her for not having the guts to say.

"Become an Auror," she said.

Severus was surprised by this. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps because she was a Slytherin and he hadn't ever expected a Slytherin to go into something so ungrateful as that. After all, no one really thanked the Aurors for their work, and there was no glory to be had in it. Just look at Alastor Moody. Best Auror perhaps of all time, and all the world referred to him as Mad-Eye, a paranoid loon many dismissed.

"Well... you're certainly bright enough for it. And your dueling certainly shows lots of promise," Severus said. He rather found it ironic, and almost funny. Her father was a Death Eater, and the girl would be an Auror. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the girl was doing it to spite her father. However, the girl didn't know about her father, so that was not possible. He wondered if he really should have suspected. After all, the girl did seem to take rather a lot of pleasure from dueling, and she could really take a hit. "We'll talk about it another time," Severus said when he saw her yawn. "Your OWLs begin tomorrow. You need a good night's rest."

"Will we be continuing lessons even during OWLs?" Tracey asked. Severus had given that a lot of thought. However, he shook his head. "Well good night then, Professor Snape," Tracey said, before walking out the door and winding her way through the labyrinth. She was dead tired, and tomorrow she had OWLs first thing in the morning. She needed to be well rested for that.

**TBC...**

**A/n: Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!**


	12. The Visitors

**Difficult**

"_Fate is not satisfied with inflicting one calamity."_

-Publilius Syrus

_**Chapter 12: The Visitors**_

Tracey woke with a start. Her body was covered in a cold sweat, and for reasons unknown to her, her heart was pounding hard in her chest. She breathed slowly and looked about herself. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt an acute sense of danger. However, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw no reason she should feel that way.

She sat tensely in her bed for a moment, and looked around. It took her a moment to remember that she was living with her aunt, and it was the reason the room was so bare. Despite the fact that she more or less got along with her aunt, she didn't want to call this home, and she would not make it appear like a home. Therefore, she left the walls bare, and all her books and things, packed away in boxes strewn around the room. She hadn't even unpacked anything from school. Even the linens and blankets on the bed and pillows were her aunts, and not her own.

Tracey sighed and was about to lay back down, saying it was just another nightmare, when she heard a creak somewhere in the house. Immediately, her heart started pounding again, and she slowly reached for her wand which she kept under her pillow. Silently, she removed the sheet from her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed.

Barefoot, she padded silently across the carpeted floor and opened the door slightly, and crept out, listening sharply to the silent house. Down the hall, she could hear the snores of her aunt, but all else was silent.

Tracey frowned, wondering if it was just the house creaking on its own, as old houses were wont to do. She tried to tell herself that there was nothing to freak out over. Even Professor Snape had assured her that there would be nothing for her to concern herself about this summer, but to be careful of avoiding Dementors. However, conjuring a Patronous was one of the many spells and charms that he had taught her.

She wondered for a moment if it was just those pamphlets that the ministry had sent out that had her on edge. They seemed so ominous and to offer no help at all. When she got home, she had half a mind to put up charms, but she was sure that if she did so, she would get into a heap of trouble. After all, she was still not of age and not allowed to do magic outside of school. Unless to save her own life or someone else's.

Tracey thought it was rather stupid, but had no time to think of this as she heard something creak once more downstairs. She had to put an effort to keep her breathing steady as she silently prowled to the top of the stairs and went down, keeping a sharp eye out. She knew for certain that her aunt was asleep in her room, which meant that there was an intruder in the house. Unless her aunts stupid cat, Blueberry had gotten itself stuck atop the refrigerator. Tracey wasn't sure how a cat could manage to get atop the refrigerator and then be too scared to climb back down again. Despite loathing the cat more than anything, she hoped that it was just Blueberry and not an actual intruder.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Tracey breathed in heavily, her heart pounding faster now. For a moment, she merely stayed at the foot of the stairs and listened. She didn't want to venture any further just yet if there was an intruder in the house. After all, wandering away from the stairs would put her in a vulnerable position. At the moment, with her back to the wall and knowing that the intruder was not upstairs and the front door to her left was locked and secures, she knew that whoever it was, could not sneak up on her.

However, if she walked into the living room, or headed to the kitchen, there was a chance that the intruder could sneak up behind her. Instead, she stayed put and listened hard for any sound, to indicate where this person was so she could do the sneaking.

She wasn't kept waiting long, when she suddenly heard a bump followed by a hiss of pain coming from near the kitchen. "For Slytherin's sake!" she heard someone complain, a woman's voice before the light went on in the kitchen. "I don't know why we're even sneaking about in this stupid manner."

"Bella! Do you want to be caught!" she heard another female voice hiss back, almost impatient.

"Cissy, I don't know what you're worried about. It's just a filthy muggle and a teenage girl, nothing to worry about. We just need to collect the girl, and leave. If the muggle gets in the way, we'll kill her. Simple as that."

Tracey felt her heart stop at this and her eyes widen in fear. They really were coming for her! However, before she could panic, she remembered what Snape had taught her. _Fear or being brash will only get you killed. _

She crept back against the wall. Any moment, they would come out of the kitchen and it wouldn't do if they spotted her right away. For a moment, she crouched down at the foot of the stairs and thought of what she should do. Her instinct told her to run away, but there was no where to run to, and she couldn't leave her aunt alone to fend for herself. However, she wasn't sure if she could take on the both of them at the same time. What was more was that if she dueled them, they would create a ruckus and wake her aunt, which could get her aunt killed as well.

"If its simple as that, then why did you force me to come with you."

"I went with you to ask Snape for his help, its the least you could do to accompany me."

"I didn't ask you to come with me."

Tracey furrowed her brow wondering who in the hell these women were, and if they were talking about Professor Snape or someone else. How common can that name be? However, she shook her head at this, she didn't have time to think about all this. She needed to do something, more than anything she had to keep her aunt safe. She wouldn't let another family member die because of her.

Whatever she was going to do, she didn't have time to ponder it, as she saw a sudden shaft of light streak its way down the hall and touch the front door. For a moment, it showed the shadow of a tall and lean figure before waning once more. Slowly she stood up and emerged with her wand. "Who the hell are you?" she asked in a low and steely voice, pointing at an unarmed figure.

Her eyes raked over the figure opposite of her. A woman, in her thirties, with long dark hair and heavy lidded eyes. For a moment, Tracey was sure she'd seen the woman somewhere before, but she wasn't sure from where. "Would you look at that, our prey has come to us. How helpful," the woman said. A moment later, another figure emerged from behind the door, this one was fair as the first was dark. "Put that wand down girl, before you hurt yourself."

"Bella, you've found her, grab her and lets just go," the blonde woman said, eyeing Tracey with ice-blue eyes that looked at her, in part curious and in part impatient to leave.

"Who the hell are you?" Tracey murmured again. She was thankful her aunt was such a sound sleeper and that these women were keeping their voice down. The last thing she wanted was for her aunt to come down and for something to happen to her.

"_That_ is no way to speak to your elders," the dark-haired woman said. She looked at her with eyes that seemed to measure her up, much the same way that Snape used to. Tracey tightened her grip on her wand.

"As far as I'm concerned, criminals who break and enter into someone's home are not much worthy of any respect," Tracey replied coldly, even though her heart was still pounding hard in her chest. But she'd be damned if she let on that she was at all scared.

"Clever little one, aren't you?" the dark-haired woman said again. "How about you make this a lot simpler on us girl, and just come with us. I promise as long as you behave like a good little pet, nothing will harm you."

"I'm no pet," Tracey said coldly, keeping her wand straight and aimed at the woman's chest.

"You know, this little game is starting to bore me. That means you better be exceptionally good with that wand, because I will not show you any mercy. Not you, or that little muggle snoring peacefully upstairs," the dark-haired woman said, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I asked you only simple question. Tell me who you are, and what you want, and just maybe I'll make things simpler for you," Tracey said, seeing that she really had no other choice in the matter. After all, two grown women at the same time would be a lot for anyone to handle. Besides, Tracey really didn't like the look of this woman and she was almost certain she knew her from somewhere.

"I'm Narcissa Malfoy, I'm sure you know my son Draco. He's in your year and house I believe," the blonde haired woman said, sounding a bit annoyed and ready to get on with this. Tracey was a bit taken aback at this, wondering what the hell THE lady Malfoy was doing trying to kidnap her. However, she remembered, her husband _was_ a Death Eater after all. Why should she be any better? "This is my sister Bellatrix Lestrange."

Tracey felt her heart thudding harder at this. Now she remembered why she looked familiar. She had seen the woman's mugshot last January when she and a whole lot of Death Eaters escaped Azkaban. Amongst Lestranges, there were two males, all three of them captured and imprisoned for the torture of the Longbottoms. Without meaning to or realizing, Tracey took a step back.

"Your step-mother, in a fashion," Bellatrix said smiling in a demented fashion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well you're probably not aware of this, but my husband fathered you, much to my annoyance," Bellatrix said, and it honestly did sound like it was nothing more than an annoyance to her. Tracey didn't lower her wand as her mind whirled. For some reason, the thing that most popped into her mind was that odd letter she had thought Draco had sent as a lame joke. The initials, RL, stuck out in her memory. The Lrestrange bothers both had a first name that started with an R. However, it seemed so absurd to her. "Your father bid me pick you, being as he was caught again at the beginning of June and could not do it himself. If it were up to me, I would let you rot here with this muggle, or maybe kill you. Unfortunately, my husband has plans for you. Plans he has shared with my lord, which have pleased him."

Tracey hardly heard a word of this as she started to shake her head. "That's not possible, I can't be his daughter," Tracey said defiantly.

"Well my husband believes it so, with damned certainty. Of course, there are ways to prove it. But first, I need you to come with us. And I suggest you do it the easy way, or else you can stay here and struggle with Cissy while I murder your aunt."

Tracey felt her eyes prickling, wondering what choice she had. Slowly she lowered her wand. "Good girl," Bellatrix said, striding over snatching Tracey's wand for her. "I'll keep it safe for you," she said, stowing it away, however, Tracey knew why she took it. So that she would be completely helpless. "Come along," she said, gripping her arm tight and hauling her back towards the kitchen, followed by Narcissa Malfoy.

In the kitchen, Bellatrix dragged her to the refrigerator, where there was a to-do-list pad, hung up on it with a pen held over it. "Write your aunty a note, telling her you've run away and not to worry about you. Make it believable. We don't need any more trouble over you."

Tracey sighed and did as she was bid. However, she did so, more for the sake of her aunt. She thought that being taken prisoner was a small price to pay, for her aunts life. Besides, Tracey wasn't stupid. From the sound of it, Bellatrix couldn't kill her, even if she wanted to for the simple fact that her husband believed that she was his daughter.

Whether or not that was true, Tracey didn't know. However, what really mattered was that they believed that it was true. If in the end it wasn't, well she had plenty of time to figure it out before then.

XX

Being a prisoner of a Death Eater, wasn't as bad as Tracey thought it would be. She supposed that had a lot to do with the fact that she was the prisoner of Narcissa Malfoy, more than Bellatrix Lestrange. Due to the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange was in hiding, she couldn't tote Tracey around with her everywhere she went. So Tracey had to stay in Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa it seemed, being a mother herself, for some reason had taken a bit of mercy on her and given her a rather lavish room big enough to be fit for a princess. Of course, without her wand, there was no escaping Malfoy Manor and she was kept locked in that overly luxurious room. She got three square meals a day, and clothes and she was able to bathe whenever she wanted, but Narcissa didn't permit her to leave the room, nor fraternize with her son. Not that Tracey wanted to. She'd always thought Draco was a turd, and that was never going to change.

For several days, Tracey could do nothing but pace around the room and think about her circumstances. It seemed so damn bizarre to her, yet she supposed that it made some sense.

Whether or not Rodolphous Lestrange, as she found out he was Bellatrix's husband, was her biological father or not seemed irrelevant at this point. She didn't see why she should worry about being the daughter of a Death Eater at this point without any proof. What mattered was that for whatever reason, this Rodolphous was quite certain that she was his daughter. Believed it enough, to have her mother killed and have her kidnapped. For what, Tracey was not sure, and that rather frightened her. However, it did clear up her mother's murder quite a bit. And she now saw why Snape had wanted to save her and teach her to protect herself, for all the good _that_ did.

But what she couldn't wrap her head around was, how had Snape known? It couldn't have been the letter alone, as the initials RL could be for anyone. Even Professor Lupin fit them, if you disregarded the J of his middle name. However, Tracey was unsure how else he would...

Tracey felt her stomach tighten in apprehension.

The only way she could think of, was if Professor Snape was a Death Eater as well. Or else, how else would he know that a Death Eater who had believed himself to be her father, was after her? Unless he was privy to Death Eater's workings, and the only way for that, was for him to be one himself. Besides, hadn't Draco's mother and aunt been referring to a Snape. Snape was not a common name, and she could not see how it could be anyone else.

But then, if Snape was a Death Eater, why did he try to protect her from them. Wouldn't he have just handed her over to them? But he hadn't done that at all. In fact, he had worked his ass off with her so that she would be prepared.

Tracey wasn't sure what to make of that. What's more, Bellatrix Lestrange had mentioned something about proving whether or not she was his daughter. It was a thought that made Tracey nervous. Though she loathed to believe even for a minute that she could be related to such scum, what if she weren't? What would they do to her then?

Probably kill her, Tracey thought. If they believed her to be a muggle-born... that's what they did to muggle-borns.

Tracey sunk at the foot of the gigantic bed and pulled her knees to her chest as best she could. It was a bit hard, as her legs caught in the constricting robes that Narcissa had set in the wardrobe of the room. It seemed that the Malfoy's did not wear muggle clothes at all.

Tracey hugged her knees as best she could and rested her chin on the top of them. If she wasn't Rodolphous' daughter, would they kill her? Would that be so bad? Tracey considered for the moment, that it would probably be for the best. After all, her life was really a piece of shit. At least if she died, she could join Marie and her mother. And did she really want to live if she knew that her father was a murderer. He probably was the one that killed her mother himself.

Tracey jumped as the heavy oak door opened. Narcissa Malfoy stood in the doorway and motioned for her. "Tracey, come along. There is someone here to see you and matters to attend."

Tracey furrowed her brow as she stood warily. Who would come to see her at Malfoy Manor? Who could possibly know she was here and bother visiting? She knew that this could bode nothing well. However, she merely stood straight and walked out of the room. She wanted to seem at least defiantly bold, even though she had not sniped at Narcissa at all and had come quietly as a dove. She loathed to think of that, but what choice had she had?

Since she had arrived, this was the first time that she had been let out of her rooms. As she looked about at the splendor, she felt a bit revolted. How was it that a Death Eater could live in such grandeur? However, she forced herself to look. With any luck, she could break out, and if she did, she had to have some general knowledge of the lay of the huge Manor. Though, she was aware that without her wand, breaking out would be nigh impossible.

Nacissa led her down a very long hall. Along the way, they passed a lot of closed doors. Locked too, Tracey thought. The floor was carpeted and along the wall she could see some portraits. Halfway down the hall, they cam across a large and grand staircase, which they descended together. At the foot of the stairs, was a large and gaping hall that somewhat would have reminded her of the Entrance Hall, but much darker.

Tracey followed silently as Narcissa Malfoy led her to the left, and they passed under a high archway onto a hall to veered off to one side. Tracey wondered how long this was going to take, but Narcissa immediately opened the first door on the right and motioned her inside. Tracey stepped inside, feeling utterly vulnerable without her wand, and stepped into the room.

Without needing to glance around, she knew that she was in a study, a very large one kept with fine furniture and plenty of books. Tracey felt disgusted at this, as she was at the general grandeur of the rest of the Manor, but kept it from showing on her face. She had learned to school her features so that they remained completely impassive.

Unfortunately she felt an unpleasant shock of surprise when her eyes finally caught the lone figure in the room. Tracey didn't know whether she should be pleased, or angry when she saw Professor Snape standing at the window at the far end of the room looking out onto the grounds. He had turned when he heard them walk in, but if he was shocked to see her, relieved, or pleased or anything at all, it didn't show on his face.

"Here she is, Severus," Narcissa said as she closed the door and stood just behind Tracey, a little to her left.

"You look remarkably well, Miss Davis," he said in a velvety tone, that had no intonation in it.

"Well of course she does, Severus. What kind of a host do you think I am?" Narcissa said, her voice even colder than Tracey had ever heard it and full of reproach.

"Yes, I'm sure a very good one, Narcissa. But the same cannot be said about Bellatrix. She can be quite impetuous and temperamental."

"Well, Tracey has been very docile and good," Narcissa said. Tracey was sure she saw a trace of a sneer appear on Snape's face at this. For her part, Tracey wasn't sure what to believe. It seemed by this visit and genial conversation, that these two were old friends. Which led her to believe that she couldn't be far off in thinking that Snape was a Death Eater. Which made no sense to her at all. Why would Dumbledore hire a Death Eater?

"Has she? I'm glad to hear it," Severus said, not taking his eyes off of Tracey as he studied her. Being as he only ever saw her in her school robes, or in the uniform she wore underneath, it felt rather odd to see her in proper wizard garb. Even stranger yet, to see her in such fine ones. Though the robes were rather a plain silver set, that came down to her ankles and were rather tightly fitted on her slim body, with three-quarter sleeves, they were made of the finest silk and were buttoned with what he was sure were real emeralds.

However, he was rather more impressed by the fact that she looked completely undamaged. When he had received an owl, the night before from Bellatrix telling him that she had taken Tracey and that she was at her sisters and needed him to do a paternity test on the girl, he had been concerned that Tracey would have been harmed during her capture. Now her was relieved to see that she was utterly fine. He knew that she hadn't been harmed, because if she had, there would be evidence of it, as she had only been held prisoner a couple days.

"Naricssa, would you be so kind as to leave me alone with my student?" Severus said, looking at Narcissa. He'd already discussed the girl with Narcissa when he first arrived. He'd felt obligated to tell her that she was indeed Rodolphous' daughter, as he wouldn't have been able to get the girl safely out of the house without doing so. And they would have killed her otherwise. At least Bellatrix would, as soon as she knew. This way, she was protect from harm by the unhinged Bealltrix. Besides, with Rodolphous and Rabastan locked away for the moment, what harm could it do?

"Of course," Narcissa replied, turning to go. When Severus heard the door close behind her, he took out his wand and cast the muffliato spell.

"You went willingly, very astute of you. You saved your aunts life by doing so. Dumbledore has relocated her, in case Bellatrix planned on returning," Severus said immediately, troubled by the fact that Tracey was doing nothing but stare at him and had said nothing the whole time. He eyed her for a moment, worried when she wouldn't respond. Perhaps they had damaged her, in a way that really left no mark.

"What the hell are you? Are you one of _them_? I thought you were helping me!" Tracey hissed, staring at him with hatred. He wasn't sure why, but seeing her worked up and angry actually made him feel relieved.

"I didn't know Rodolphous would send Bellatrix after you. I thought you were safe once he was back in Azkaban. I was wrong, but you're alive aren't you,? And no worse for being kidnapped," Severus said, ignoring her questions.

"How do I know you're trying to help me at all? This could just be another twisted, fucking game of yours."

"You have to simply trust me."

"Why should I? Because for all your help, look at where I am! I'm a fucking prisoner!"

Now he was getting annoyed. "Well yes, but you're alive aren't you? And unharmed, and your aunt still alive."

"According to you, but you could just be lying to me. And unharmed for how much longer? Do you think I'll live through it if I'm not this- Rodolphous Lestrange's daughter?" she noticed that at this, Snape seemed to get a bit uncomfortable and she felt like she had just been punched in the stomach. "You know, don't you? _Am_ I his daughter?"

"Yes, I ran the paternity test myself," Severus admitted, seeing no reason why he should lie about it now. The girl more or less knew everything she needed to know already. She guessed that he was a Death Eater. Whether or not he could make her believe he was on her side was another matter. And he wasn't sure if it would be in his best interest to let on that he was a spy for Dumbledore. It wasn't so much about whether he could trust her or not, but whether she was competent of keeping the secret or not. At least with her doubting his allegiance, he didn't have to worry about that.

"When? How?" Tracey asked, confused but still ticked off. She felt so lost.

"The morning after you destroyed the lamps of Slytherin. Before I woke you, I took a lock of your hair from your hairbrush to run the paternity test. The night before, I'd received a sample from Rodolphous," Severus replied curtly.

"So you _are_ a Death Eater," she accused, stepping away from him again and glaring at him. She didn't really want to think about the fact that she was the daughter of a Death Eater at the moment. That was simply far too much to wrap her mind around at this particular instant. Especially as she had never even so much as seen the man in question in person. Right now, what seemed most pressing to her was Snape's role in all this and what she was to expect of her circumstance and even that made her feel like tearing out her hair.

Severus shouldn't care about what the girl thought to him, but perhaps because all the time and effort he put into keeping her safe, he did care. "A mistake from my youth. As you must be aware, to desert means certain death. I really have no other choice, however, there is something to be gained from being part of the Dark Lord's inner circle and seen as a faithful follower," he said coldly.

"And why should I believe that?" Tracey asked.

"You asked me for a leap of faith before, I've told you more than I feel comfortable sharing with a girl whose sixteen and if she told anyone this, could get me killed. Don't you think I deserve at least the benefit of the doubt?"

Tracey frowned slightly as she thought about what he said. Her rational mind told her that it would be stupid to believe him. However, she had spent so much time with him that despite her better judgement, she did believe him. And if Snape was playing a game, he was her best bet for getting out of this unscathed.

"What now then?" Tracey asked with a weary sigh.

"I can't actually get you out of here, so you will have to remain under Narcissa's guard until school starts up again. No matter what Narcissa says, however, you must remember that she is tremendously proud. Though it is not in her interest to harm the only daughter of Rodolphous Lestrange, if you offend her, her temperament and pride may well get the better of her. Therefore, please try to remain polite. Or if anything just don't say very much. I think if you behave well enough she may let you walk out of that room she has you in," Severus stated. To Tracey it seemed he may have well been giving her just a Potions lecture instead of giving her a how-to-guide on being a good little prisoner. "Bellatrix is a greater danger to you than Narcissa, however, I doubt you will see very much of her, if you see her at all. If you behave adequately, you should be back to school without so much as a scratch on you in September."

"What about my school supplies?"

"Narcissa isn't going to risk taking you out in public, and run the chance of you escaping or warning someone of your condition. Once she receives your school list, she will probably have your books and supplies owled directly here along with a new trunk. For your school robes, she's told me she's going to have a clothier come and fit you for new robes."

Tracey frowned at this. "The Malfoy's are going to pay for this?" She didn't like the idea of this. She didn't want to owe the Malfoys anything.

"The Malfoys have an obscene amount of money, what they will spend on you won't make a dent in their finances. However, its more of a loan. One Rodolphous will see to himself," Severus replied. "The Lestranges are another family that are extremely well off and I hear he wants no expense to be spared for you."

Tracey wasn't sure whether she should feel relieved by this or not. But at least now she had something to look forward to, being mostly getting back to school and out of the clutches of the Malfoy's and their relatives. "What about my wand?" Tracey asked.

"Narcissa is keeping it safely locked away. She won't return it to you until the last possible moment," Severus said. "I have brought you something," Severus said, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small glass vial with a sprayer and top, so that it almost resembled a small perfume bottle. "I trust you remember the uses of the Confusion Concoction. I made it myself and you will find that it also makes the person affected by it very suggestible. Use it only in an emergency and with lots of caution," Severus warned, before handing it to the girl.

Tracey slowly took the vial in hand and stared at it. It was bottled in a deep purple vial. It she held it up to the light, it gleamed like amethyst. Tracey cradled it in her hand and held it softly to her, looking up at Snape, wondering what had made him think of it. "Why- How...?"

"Guest is easily code for prisoner. I imagined you didn't have your wand, leaving you completely defenseless. I can't allow that," Severus said stiffly and very uncomfortably. Tracey nodded and slipped the vial into her sleeve while Severus pulled out his wand and removed the charm. "I will see you in September," Severus said, heading towards the door. When he opened it he found Narcissa standing right outside the door.

"Are you leaving already?"

"Yes, as you're aware I have a guest at the moment, and I am loathe to leave him reign over my home for too long," Severus said, "I can find my own way, Nariccsa, Miss Davis."

"Good day Professor," Tracey said civilly, showing no emotion at his departing with a nod.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Narcissa Malfoy turned her ice blue gaze at her. "Come along Tracey," she said in an imperious tone that was not wholly unkind as she turned and led the way back. Tracey followed her back to the room she was staying, thinking that at least the visit had given her some hope that soon, this hell would end, and life would more or less go back to normal. Tracey just hoped that she wouldn't find need of the potion, tucked safely away in her sleeve.

**TBC...**


	13. Assault On the Body

**Disclaimer: **I don't speak French. Didn't take it in school ever. Therefore the accuracy of any French in this chapter is solely dependent upon Google Translate.

**Difficult**

"_Crime butchers innocent to secure a throne, and innocence struggled with all it's might against the attempts of crime."_

_-Maximilien Robespierre_

"_Obviously crime pays or there'd be no crime."_

_-G. Gordon Liddy_

_**Chapter 13: Assaults on The Body**_

Tracey thought she would go absolutely mad, as she was once more holed up in the rooms designated for her imprisonment. However, she tried to occupy her mind. Mostly, she practiced her Occlumency for hours on end. The monotony broken only by mealtimes, showering and getting ready for the day. Somehow, despite feeling grateful to Professor Snape for his... thoughtfulness in bringing her a potion, she doubted she'd ever need it, being locked away as she was.

Unfortunately, she was rather surprised when a few days later, Draco Malfoy of all people, paid her a visit. She supposed that it really shouldn't be a surprise, considering that she was staying in the boy's Family Home. However, she was pretty sure that he was under restriction by his mother not to see her.

"You know I've been itching to see you since I first knew you came here," Draco started arrogantly, as soon a he entered her room, closing the door behind himself. He paced the room, completely unconcerned that he hadn't been invited in and started touching things, though they did belong to him. This was after all _his_ home and the only thing Tracey had to her name was her wand, and she didn't even know where that was.

Tracey rather loathed that he'd caught her unawares as she was sitting indian style in the center of the very large bed. Today, she had chosen a set of robes, that gave her the legroom that she needed to sit that way. "Draco, how nice to see you too," Tracey said coolly, keeping the sarcasm in her voice to a minimum.

"I think you and me have a score to settle," Draco said, pulling his wand from his robe. Tracey tensed as she stared at the pasty boy, with a thin and pointy face. Tracey grimaced. She honestly didn't know what girls saw in him other than his name and riches. To her he rather did look like a ferret, and she'd rather enjoyed hearing about Moody turning him into one and bouncing him like a bouncy ball. Made her wish she had been there to witness it.

"What are you talking about, Draco," Tracey asked through gritted teeth as she watched him maneuver around the bed. She thought that sudden movements weren't wise. Just as they weren't wise to do around wild animals, though she credited animals with having more sense than Draco Malfoy did. All the while though, she slipped the bottle Snape have given her discreetly down her sleeve and into her hand. Since his entrance, from his even more overly confident stride than was usual even for Draco, Tracey knew that this encounter would be bad news. And his coming closer than was necessary to the bed she was on, left her feeling extremely on edge.

"Here," Draco said, tossing a letter. Tracey stared at it only for a second, noted that it was addressed to her and already open, and looked up once more. Draco smirked to see her suspicious look and quirked brow. "Your OWLs," he stated simply. Tracey snatched it up and looked down at it for a second. She wasn't surprised that she had gotten nearly all 'Outstandings' but for Astornomy and Herbology in which she had only received an 'Exceeds Expectations'. "You know I'm rather surprised by your scores. They're even better than mine. I didn't know you were so dedicated to your studies. Although, perhaps I shouldn't be. I suppose thats what you've been spending all that time with Snape doing last term. And here I thought you two were carrying on some kind of affair."

Tracey felt white hot anger suddenly spike up from her stomach as she glared at Draco, but she merely gnashed her teeth. Wasn't wise to anger Draco when he had his wand on you and you had no defense but a potion. Although, she supposed this was the only way Draco could get the better of anyone, if his goons weren't with him. Either way, it meant Draco could never take on anyone without having the upper hand.

"Well Draco, you of all people should know of the advantages of having Snape in your corner, so to speak. After all, he's been covering your arse the last five years. What, are you jealous you're no longer his pet?" Tracey bit back, with a smile. "So if you're done playing owl for me," she went on, motioning to her letter, "kindly leave. Or I shall have to tell your mummy you're breaking her rules."

Draco turned red, faster than she could say blush. She felt a thrill of pleasure to know she had riled him up. Though she supposed that it wasn't a difficult task, really Draco was far too easy. However, she felt he deserved that and much more, especially after what he said about her and Snape. "You think I'm scared of her?" he snapped, angrily.

Tracey shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past you; you scare so easily after all."

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, and Professor Snape won't be here to save you this time," Draco said, flicking his wand at her, causing her to be fall back he hands to be pinned on either side of her head. Her legs too, felt like someone had grabbed them, physically yanked them and tied them to the bed post at the foot of her bed.

"What the hell are you doing, Draco," Tracey asked, panic momentarily entering her voice, as he started crawling on the bed towards her. She twisted her hands and feet, but found that couldn't move them. They were pinned to the bed. Other than wiggling them a little, there was nothing that she could do.

"What Blaise has been wanting to do. What do you think he'll say when he knows I've tasted you first?" Draco asked as he grabbed her legs and pried them apart. He smiled up at her when he was done and kneeled between her legs as he hovered over her. Tracey felt sick in her stomach, and her heart beating hart in her chest as tears sprouted in her eyes. "You know, you really are one of the Prettiest girls in our year," he said, licking up one side of her neck.

Tracey shivered in revulsion at just the feel of his breath on her neck. To feel his legs brushing up her thighs and his tongue on her skin, made the vile literally crawl up her throat. And no matter how much she struggled against the magic holding her down, she could barely manage to move her limbs even a little.

However, she wasn't going to cry. She wouldn't let herself cry. Clenching her jaw, she turned and glared at Draco, willing him to get his face closer to her right arm. She managed to get him to do so, by moving her head as far left as she could, so that he could access her neck anymore.

Draco growled to be refused access to the soft skin he had been treated, but merely moved his head to the now exposed side. Tracey sighed almost in relief, but held her breath before twisting her wrist and spraying his face. Immediately, Draco pulled away from her and started brushing his nose, looking extremely confused.

"Remove this spell, and get out," Tracey commanded through gritted teeth, tears still glistening in her eyes. Draco removed the spell, rather much like a hypnotized person. When she was free to move she quickly scrambled up from the bed and physically shoved him out the door. "And don't come back," she called after him before she slammed the door shut behind him. This door automatically locked whenever it closed, she didn't have to bother with physically locking it.

Breathing hard, Tracey leaned against the door and slid down until she was seated leaning against it with her knees nearly to her chest. Unconsciously, she cradled the hand that held Snape's potion to her wildly beating heart, while she used the other to run it through the hair, all the while her body shaking as her mind ran over what had just happened. Or rather, what could have happened, if she hadn't had that potion on hand.

Tracey wasn't sure how it happened, one minute she was just sitting there thinking while trying to control her body from trembling. The next she was bawling and rocking her body back and forth; all the while both hands clinging to the little bottle as if her sanity depended on it, and holding it up to her chest.

XX

Tracey wasn't sure how many days had passed since Draco's_ visit_. To Tracey, it felt like an eternity. It really didn't help either that she could hardly sleep anymore. These days, she spent most nights tossing and turning in the large bed, dreaming of being attacked and actually violated over and over again by that ferret of a boy. The slightest sound woke her, even if it was the breeze at the window.

She was even, totally apprehensive when the door of the room opened and tensed from where she stood by the small round circular table. She made sure that she had the small crystal vial Professor Snape had given her on hand. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she noted that it was Narcissa Malfoy who stood there. For a moment, her ice-like eyes regarded her with her pale brows draw together as she looked her over.

"Come along, Tracey," she said, cool and civil as ever. Tracey furrowed her brow, but merely did as she was bid to do. She would find out soon enough, and she knew she merely better keep alert.

She kept pace with Narcissa and remained quiet as she followed her down the corridors of the manor. Tracey sometimes wondered why it was necessary to have such a large home when it was only Malfoy and his parent's here. The Manor was really just a vast emptiness, and Tracey was sure more so now that Malfoy Senior had been sent to Azkaban.

Tracey's gaze hardened at the thought. She was sure the slick git deserved to be there.

Shaking her head, she put the thoughts aside and followed Narcissa Malfoy into a sitting room. There was a witch, one Tracey did not know, moving a footstool to the center of the room. Draped over her shoulders was a measuring tape. Her hair was pale blonde, but with wisps of silver in it, was held up in a tight bun and she wore horn-rimmed glasses. She had just turned to look at Tracey when she suddenly smiled and smoothed long-fingered hands over a plain set of cotton, celestial blue robes.

"Is zat the girl?" she asked, her voice slightly accented. The witch was french from the sound of it, probably in her late fifties too.

"Yes," another voice answered, not that of Narcissa Malfoy. Tracey felt her heart pounding as she turned and looked and wondered how she had missed the dark brunette, standing at the window at the far end of the room. Though, Tracey did not recognize the face of the person that was now staring at her with a cold smile, she recognized that voice. She eyed the softened features, the sharp and pointy chin, the grey eyes and could see through the glamour to see the real Bellatrix Lestrange.

"My dear, sweet girl... you look so pale," she said in a voice that was almost sickeningly sweet. However, the woman could not manage her intonation to sound the least bit worried as she approached Tracey and grabbed her face between her hands. Trace felt her skin prickle, as if it was pressed on either side by slabs of ice and drew her face away, with a look of disgust in her face. However, she did nothing but glare at the woman, who was so near smiling in pleasure, that she had to turn her back fully to the seamstress.

"Come along dear," Bellatrix said, taking Tracey's wrist in her hand and leading her towards the footstool and pushing her so that she was standing on top of it. "This is Madame Blanc, she will be fitting you for all your robes," Bellatrix said before turning and taking a seat in a high-backed armchair, where she could keep an eye on Tracey.

"_Je veux seulement le meilleur pour ma nièce. Soie, le satin, le meilleur de lin et coton_," Narcissa said in french, stepping closer to the woman and pulling her aside. The woman nodded her head, and they started having a conversation. Tracey rolled her eyes as she stood tired atop the stool, wondering how long this was going to take, and thinking how typical it was that Narcissa Malfoy spoke French.

Finding that conversation of no interest to her, she turned to look at Bellatrix, whose eyes were also trained on her, though the woman wore a smug smirk on her face. Tracey narrowed her eyes and glared at Bellatrix. "You know, my first impression of you was that you had some sense and were slightly interesting, maybe even like you're father. However, if you're cracking being just a guest of my sister, than you're utterly unimpressive," Bellatrix said in a low tone, so that her sister and the french woman could not hear.

"You're laboring under the impression that I care what you think, let me set you straight. I don't. You're nothing but a filthy criminal, who cowers beneath a mask to commit heinous acts and probably bends over for any man who would be willing to fuck your despicable ass," Tracey said coldly, not bothering keeping her voice low, nor the contempt she had showing through her voice.

At this, Bellatrix stood up from where she was and backhanded the girl so hard, that the other two occupants in the room turned to look. Tracey vaguely heard a gasp through the ringing in her head. The right side of her head felt like it was on fire. From the force of the blow, her face had been forced to turn.

After moment, though her face still hurt and head head was in paining her, she turned and looked at Bellatrix. She reached up with her hand, and wiped the blood from her mouth. She could hear Narcissa speaking really quickly in French, probably explaining to the woman what had occurred. Tracey merely smirked at the woman breath heavily and glaring at her with eyes like daggers.

"Is that the best you can do? My mum could hit harder than that," Tracey spat.

"You cheeky, filthy-"

"Sister," Narcissa said, hurried striding over and grabbing Bellatrix. However, Bellatrix shoved her off.

"Did you hear what she said? She needs to be punished," Bellatrix shrieked at her sister.

"Madame Blanc, would you please start measuring her, I need to speak to my sister in private," Narcissa said, forcefully pulling her sister along.

Tracey merely got off the stool and sat on it once they were gone. Her head felt slightly dizzy. She heard the witch walk over and felt her presence hovering over her, but she did not say anything. Tracey didn't take any mind of her as she merely held her head in her hands and gingerly touched the right side of her face.

Bellatrix's knuckle had landed right at the corner of her lip and busted it. Touching it, she winced when she felt the cut. She really hated the whole lot of Draco's family. "_Ma chere_, are you all right?" Madame Blanc asked.

Tracey looked up and stared at the woman, who had eyes like honey. "I'm fine," Tracey muttered irritably. As she stared at the woman's unsure and concerned face, Tracey wondered if the woman could help her at all. Automatically she knew that she couldn't help her at all, however, there was something she could do.

Before Bellatrix and Narcissa walked back in, she put her hand near the woman's face and sprayed her with it. "You're going to hand over your wand, and not remember doing so, nor mention it," Tracey said, standing back up on the stool as the woman dazedly did as she was told. After having done so, Trace shoved the wan up her sleeve. "Madame Blanc, you should start measuring me," Tracey said in a normal tone.

"Oh yes... I must've..." she trailed off as she set to work. Not a few seconds more, and both sisters came back into the room. Tracey merely kept her gaze on the woman as she set about doing her work. She paid no mind as Bellatrix sulkily resumed her seat and stared at her with murderous intent, while Narcissa went on giving instructions in french all the while keeping watchful eye on her sister.

"You never did say what he wants," Tracey commented, after a few moments of staring at the woman measuring her in silence.

Bellatrix slowly turned to look at Tracey. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said haughtily before turning away.

Tracey felt her anger, simmering under the surface. However, she didn't think it would be wise to incur Bellatrix's wrath again. Whatever she might have said to Bellatrix, the back-hand had hurt, it was even still stinging. "I bet he hasn't even told you," Tracey said, with a slight sneer. Bellatrix turned her eyes to look at the teenaged girl. For a moment, Tracey saw the snarl, before Bellatrix looked away once more.

"That's not going to work, sweetie," she said in a sickeningly sweet tone. Tracey merely glared at Bellatrix.

"You better hope what he wants goes well," Tracey said, though she barely moved her mouth. Balletrix merely smiled in turn.

**TBC...**

**A/n: **To anyone reading this, sorry this took so long. I've been busy. As always please review1


	14. Psychosis

**Difficult**

"_Be gentle with the young."_

-Juvenal

_**Chapter 14: Psychosis**_

Tracey awoke with a start. Through the dark, she could barely make out a dark silhouette, sitting atop of her. Already her heart was pounding in her chest, as she tried to move. Terror took hold of her as she realized that her arms were spread on either side of her and stuck to the bed. Her legs too were stuck to the bed, thought they weren't spread apart.

Suddenly the figure on top of her was hovering over her. She could feel soft and somewhat fragrant hair tickling her face. "You think you can say and do what you want and get away with it?" a sultry voice whispered in her ear, and Tracey felt her heart stutter to a painful stop before thudding on harder, though a bit slower.

Before she could say anything, a cold hand was clamped over her lips. "No talking, you are just going to listen. I don't care that you're Rodolphous' bastard offspring, and unlike Narcissa, I'm not afraid of his retaliation. I thrive on it," she hissed as her head lowered. Tracey could practically feel the woman's lips on the shell of her ear as she spoke. To feel her hot breath alone made her shiver in revulsion and thought her mind told her struggling was futile, her body disregarded that. "Wriggle all you want. That will only make this that much more enjoyable."

At that Bellatrix pulled something out of her robes. It caught the moonlight from the window and Tracey felt her eyes widen at the glint of metal. "Feel free to scream, no one will hear you, useful things, silencing spells," Bellatrix said with a demented cackle as she removed her hand from Tracey's mouth.

"What are you doing?" Tracey asked, and she hated that her voice was tinted with fear and panic. Her head was the only thing she could move and she watched with wide eyes as Bellatrix exposed her left forearm. Roughly, she had pushed the sleeve of the robes she'd been wearing to sleep all the way up to her elbow.

"Leaving you a reminder of what you are, so you'll never forget," she said, and Tracey could hear a smile in her voice . Tracey's breathing became shallow as she watched Bellatrix bring the blade of the knife close to her arm. Clenched her teeth, Tracey willed herself not to scream; she wouldn't give Bellatrix that satisfaction. However, that didn't keep her body from trying to buck Bellatrix off, or from trying to wriggle her arms away from her.

Tracey felt the cold metal of the blade before she felt it press into her skin. A scream rose up from her throat, but didn't make it past her clenched teeth, which were pressed so hard together that they hurt. Tracey was sure that they would crack beneath the pressure of her jaw.

Much as she tried not to, she couldn't keep the tears from sprouting in her eyes. Nor could she stop her body from attempting to thrash beneath the pain of the blade cutting into her skin, the slightest movement of her arm causing the knife to gauge deeper.

It felt like an eternity before Bellatrix rose. Trace lose sense of the world around her as she stared at the ceiling through watery eyes. Her throat felt tight and painful due to choking back the screams and sobs. She could feel the burning in her arm and the hot tears that silently continued to our down her face, but her mind was blank of anything but the pain. The world around her ceased to make sense and crumbled around her and she felt as though she had stumbled into one of her nightmares.

Her father was really coming for her.

She had know this for some time now, but she'd never allowed the implication to really sink in. But now, his shadows were stepping out of the dark and pulling at her, trying to pull her into the darkness.

She wasn't sure how long she merely lay there staring at nothing. She didn't know when Bellatrix left of released her body from the magical bind it was in. That didn't matter. She'd done her damage, and Tracey had been unable to do anything about it. This realization is what scared Tracey the most. Bellatrix had come like a thief in the night and shattered whatever sense of security Tracey had left.

When the sun's light started streaming in through the window, Tracey finally moved and turned her head to look at her left arm, which was still extended. Belatedly she was aware her muscles were all stiff form lack of movement, but she ignore this.

The blood on the would had not crusted, but through it she could see the word saved into her skin, dark red with her blood, written in all capitals. It ran horizontally along the length of her forearm.

BASTARD

That was what was written, for al the world to know. All her life, all she was, reduced to that one, derisive word. Tracey felt a last tear escape unbidden from her eyes, as she turned away from it and closed her eyes.

She focused on breath through her pain, and lay unmoving and unsleeping for several more hours. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't allow herself to sleep again. In her sleep... she was was vulnerable to attack, even if only from her own mind. She couldn't sleep.

XX

"I'm so glad you came, Severus," Narcissa stated as soon as he was inside Malfoy Manor. If Severus was surprised by Narcissa's urgent summoning, he wasn't showing it. However, he did note the somewhat alarmed look that Narcissa wore, and how she was wringing her hands and he wondered what was wrong.

"Did something happen to Draco?" he asked as he followed her rapid step down a long hall, lined with portraits.

"No, it's Tracey. I don't know whats wrong with her. For days she's been acting more and more erratic," Narcissa stated, sounding flustered as they came to a grand staircase and began to ascend. "And she keeps scratching her left arm, gouging out whole piece of skin and if I ever try to even touch her to make her stop, she starts screeching and growling like a wild animal."

Severus felt his heart clench and he wondered what was wrong with her. Unconsciously, he quickened his strides, hoping he could run to check on the girl. Something had to be wrong, this wasn't like her. She could be moody and temperamental, but this was something else.

"Did something happen?" he asked slowly. Eyeing Narcissa warily, hoping she didn't take this as him suggesting she id something to Tracey. Although, he wouldn't put it past her. After all, she was a Black and while she was more controlled and tame than her sister Bellatrix... they were still sisters.

"No," she replied icily. "She hasn't left her rom and no one but me is authorized to go in there. I thought perhaps... well that it just may be her blood. The Lestrange's have been a rather unstable lot for several generations now."

Severus didn't comment, though he thought drily on the hypocrisy of that statement. Inbreeding was rampant in the Blacks and even the Malfoys could be accused of the same. Not for nothing Bellatrix was so demented. However, he shoved this aside. Much as Tracey shared characteristics with her father and her uncle, she was a person all her own. He knew something had to have happened and felt anxious to get to her as they took several more hallways.

"She's in here," Narcissa said when at long last they came to a stop at a large ornate door, with now handle. It wasn't until Narcissa placed her hang on it, that one appeared. "I'll leave you to it," Narcissa said as she walked away.

Before she had even disappeared from sight he placed a hand on the handle and wrenched the door open. He quickly stepped inside and closed the door. The first thing he noticed was that Tracey was no in the room; followed by his noticing that the room, prior to being wrecked was quite lavish.

Tables had been knocked over. Somehow, one of the bedpost had been snapped and lay on the ground, splintered. Clothes had been ripped to rags and tossed around the room; feathers littered the whole room, Severus guessed that down pillows had been ripped apart. Though the bed for the most part was eerily untouched.

After staring around the destroyed room, Severus became aware of the sound f running water reaching his ear. Turning away from the room, he stared at a white door, which was cracked open. Considering the room looked like a tornado had passed through it, Severus didn't debated whether or not to go in. Considering the girl seemed to be in the middle of some kind of meltdown, that took precedence over everything else.

However, he opened the door cautiously. If the girl was having some kind of break, there was a chance that she would turn violent. Sudden movements were inadvisable.

Slowly stepping into the room, he noted that the tub was empty. However, there was a shower stall next to it. As he approached, he was aware of the sound of water getting closer. "Tracey, " he called softly as he rounded the wall and looked into the shower stall. Through the glass that separated him form the girl, he spotted her sitting, fully clothed, against a wall.

She wore a set of green robes, which he was thankful for, that clung to her body as they were utterly drenched. He noted that the arm farthest from hm had a the sleeve pulled up and was bleeding, as her hands pressed over her ears. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her forehead rest against them. Her hair covered her face from sight and as the water continued to shoer down on her, he noted she was shivering.

"Tracey," he stated, all but shouted as he opened the glass door. Warily he noted that there was no steam coming from the water, a fact that worried him.

"It's in my head. It's not real," Tracey muttered to herself, shaking her head. "No one is here, I'm alone. Always alone."

Severus reached out a hand and as soon as he felt the icy coldness of the water, he shut if off. _Fuck_' he thought, _how long has she been in there?_

Disregarding his own safety, he swiftly stepped into the shower, clenched her wrist tight in his hands, and hauled her to her feet forcefully. Tracey looked up, startled, her eyes round and big. Severus couldn't help grimacing as he caught sight of her face. The are above and below her eyes was so dark that he was sure he she hadn't slept in at least a week. She was completely drawn and pale. Her lips looked like they were on their way to turning blue. His hands gripped her at her wrists, and he could feel the dangerously slow pulse of her heart.

Severus wasted no time in dragging the dripping girl out of the shower. Pulling out his wand, he quickly set to work on getting out several towels. Severus his his eyes and muttered a spell to divest the girl of her soaked robes a she stood before her, before wrapping a large and fluffy towel around her. Her body was shaking too much for him to care about how inappropriate this was. He needed her to get warm.

"What are you... doing here?" she asked through a tremulous voice as he dragged her back into the other room. Severus was nonplussed to see it was all back in order. The House Elves of Malfoy Manor were many and had no choice but to be efficient.

Severus ignore her question as he steered her and pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed. He pulled out a large set of robes from the repaired wardrobe; it was the only thing in the wardrobe that looked warm and walked back to the seated and trembling girl. He used an extra towel to dry her limbs and try to rub some warmth into them, before tossing the robes around her and ordering her to drop the towel. Having done this he moved her to the bed, at which she resisted him.

Gritting his teeth, he turned to her and forcefully picked her up and placed her on the bed. Having done this he magicked the covers over the girl and made them pin her down beneath them. "Do you remember the last time you slept?" he asked as he adjusted her pillows manually before proceeding to place warming charms on the comforters.

Tracey furrowed her brow at both the treatment and at the question as she continued to shiver, though it was starting to stop. She tried to concentrate on the question and how to answer, but it was hard. "Maybe a week, or more," she responded, though she could never be sure. Time went on in such a distorted way here.

Severus scowled. He'd feared as much. That kind of sleep deprivation was dangerous. However, he was startled she'd made it beyond the micro-sleeps, which happened after not sleeping for three days. "Show me your arm," he commanded. Tracey's eyes turned to look at him and narrowed. Severus briefly wondered if shiver of fear he felt run down his spine was because she was so ill, or if it was because the sleep deprivation had led to her psychosis, and made her look so terrifying.

"No," Tracey refused through gritted teeth. Severus felt slight relieved at her refusal. If she was still willing to fight with him, it meant that she was not giving up. Severus wondered how much strength she had left as he suddenly launched for her left arm.

Through Tracey may have wanted to stop him, she had no strength to. Her attempt to move out of his reach, failed miserably. He latched onto her arm and managed to get it out from beneath the covers while one of his arms pinned her across the shoulders to the bed. Tracey felt it was unfair being that even if she had been at her full strength, he would still be bigger than her.

The pain exchanged glared as Severus gripped tight to her arm and gently pushed the sleeve up. He inhaled sharply at what he saw there. Nearly from writ to elbow, there were deep and long scratches. It looked like Tracey was trying to gauge out, layer after layer of her skin with her own nails. Alone her forearm there were scratchers of varying lengths and degrees of healing. While some looked as though they had attempted to scab and were gouged open all over, others were fresh and bleeding.

However, beneath the scratches he was something more. There was something, apparently much deeper than the scratches, buried beneath. It looked like it had been a word, but Severus couldn't really make it out. He could only see bits and piece of what could have been a string of letters.

"Who did this?" Severus asked in his low, deadly tone.

"I did," Tracey snapped trying to wrench her arm out of his iron-grip. It was starting to hurt and she was sure he was cutting off her blood supply to her hand. She felt her cheeks flaming as she wondered why it always had to be Snape to witness her at her weakest. Angrily she wondered why he had come now. There was nothing he could do for her, and that prideful part of her wanted him to go away and leave her alone.

Severus raised his eyes to meet Tracey's. In the light of the room they looked like moss-covered rocks, sunken in deep pools. He stared at her defiant face, and the set line of her lips pressed tightly together. He could see her jaw working as she clenched her teeth. He wondered why it was so hard for her to tell him; he wondered why after all he did for her, why she couldn't trust him; he wondered how many times they would have to go through this. It was exhausting.

"This," Severus hissed, gripping her hand hard enough to bruise as he pointed to the remnants of a word. Tracey tried to yank her arm away but to no avail. "Who did it, Tracey? Why are you protecting them?"

"I'm not protecting anyone," Tracey yelled, sitting up and shoving him away with her free hand. Severus was so caught off guard by her abrupt movement that he left go of her arm and stumbled a step back. With her arm free, Tracey moved it to her chest and backed away, becoming a tight ball with her back pressed to the headboard; much the way he had found her in the shower, but for the fact she was looking at him and glaring as she panted from the exertion of sitting up and pushing him.

"Tracey," Severus suddenly found himself pleasing as he looked at the girl. She did not look like any animal. While to Narcissa, she had appeared a feral animal, to Severus she just appeared a wounded and scarred, girl. Tracey was human, and complex. He knew she had pride, and dignity, that she was ashamed of being scared, and she chose to be angry instead. But anger easily blossomed to violence and Severus didn't want violence to take root of her heat, but he was afraid it had already taken root. "Please, tell me what happened."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Tracey grit out, her eyes narrowing on nothing "She came in the night and carved _bastard _on my arm with a knife," Tracey told him. Severus felt his mouth twist into a snarl but said nothing. He supposed that explained why she wouldn't sleep, she thought Bellatrix would come back. "If I ever get the chance, I'll kill her myself."

Severus ignored the pain he felt in his chest and hoped she was saying it the way the way teenagers usually meant it. However, the hatred he heard in her voice made him uneasy. "Tracey, you must sleep. This kind of sleep deprivation is dangerous," Severus stated in a measured tone.

Her eyes slowly drifted to him, widening in panic. She started shaking her dark and still wet head at him. "I can't sleep. Thats when they come," Tracey said, looking wild while putting her hands over her head. Severus watched in dismay as she tugged on her hair and alternately banged her fist on her head. _She's been having delusions as well_, he thought.

It was not unexpected. It did come with the psychosis after all. Severus wasn't surprised if it mixed with her paranoia and she had delusions of other people coming for her in the night. Thought, it was quite obvious that what happened with Bellatrix was no delusion. And for all intents and purposes, her father _was_ after her.

Putting his knees on the bed, he reached out for Tracey and gently pried her hands away from herself. "You have to sleep," he told her sternly. She gave him a pleasing look, and it actually hurt him to see it. But this was for her own good. "I'll stay with you and no one will hurt you while you sleep," he told her as he moved back and pulling her until she was in the middle of the large bed.

"You promise?" Tracey asked uncertainly and in a small voice, which painfully made him think ot her as a small child. But she wasn't. She was sixteen, or at least he thought she was. Unless her birthday was at the end of August. Severus shook his heat of the thoughts.

"Ye, Tracey, I promise," Severus stated. Though she looked at him skeptically, she said no more and crawled back under the covers. Soom as she settled in and closed her eyes, she was fast asleep. Severus guessed that she had been fighting desperately for days to stay conscious. He supposed that was why he found her, fully clothed, taking a cold shower, to keep herself jarred into consciousness.

Severus sighed and settled in at the foot of the bed, leaning against the post. He supposed that he was here for several hours. He wondered what Pettigrew would make of his long absence, however, he didn't really care what the rat thought. Looking at him and knowing that he was part of the reason Lily was dead made him want to kill the man with his own bare hands.

As for Narcissa, she'd asked him here. He was about to throw away his life for her son. She owed him, BIG TIME. Draco may be one of his students and therefore responsibilities, and he may be nothing more than a boy, but sometimes Severus thought the boy was just a great waste of human potential. Tracey was worth far more than the likes of the Malfoy boy.

Quickly, Severus became bored and uncomfortable, and turned to stare at Tracey. For a moment, he wondered how she managed to keep at all sane. Already she had been here for weeks. Without any stimulus for her mind and only her thoughts, which were sure to be anything but cheerful. Any person would go mad. She hadn't.

And yet, Severus felt worried. She was so young, it was what every tragedy of her life constantly reminded him of. She was too young for all this. She endured, but everyone had a breaking point, and as he stared at her deathly pale face and the dark circles that engulfed her eyes, he felt she was nearing her breaking point.

XX

Several hours later, Tracey started to wake. Severus had moved to sit beside her, leaning against the head board, as that was more comfortable than leaning against a bed post which's ornate decorations were digging into his back.

He felt her begin to move her head, her brow furrowing while she mumbled sleepily to herself. She was having a nightmare, he realized belatedly as he leaned forward to get a closer look. For a moment, he wondered whether he should wake her, or leave her be. Perhaps she would settle into sleep once more. However, her movement's were becoming more frantic and she was shutting her eyes tighter. _Clearly not_, he thought to himself drily. He wondered if perhaps part of her problem with sleeping was the nightmares, or if the nightmares were simply due to her recent attack.

"Tracey," he stated softly, placing a hand on her arm and trying to gently shake her awake. However, the second he placed his hand on her, she suddenly sat bolt upright and screamed, looking wildly around. "Tracey, its all right," Severus said sternly, somewhat flustered as he wasn't quite sure how to help her.

She turned around to look at him at that, her green eyes wide and catching the light. There were starbursts around her eyes that looked almost yellow, and for a moment her eyes looked like lily pads. Belatedly he noted that her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears. Before he really knew what was happened, the girls arms were awkwardly wrapped around him and she had pressed her face so hard into his chest he was sure she would leave a bruise.

"He's a monster," she weeped into his chest, her body shaking. Severus wondered for a second how many times he was going to have his arms full of Tracey, but shoved the thought aside as he slowly dropped his arms around her. He ignored the fact that she was clutching on his robes, and that her words for whatever reason pained him to hear. "Do you think my... mother knew? Did she think I was just like him?" Tracey asked, hiccuping as she looked up and stared at Snape with wide eyes.

Severus wasn't sure what to say. As long as he could remember, the only way he knew how to use his words, was to hurt people. "You're not a monster Tracey, and you are your own person," he stated slowly. He was very uncomfortable, but he'd always felt a responsibility to protect his students. At least the Slytherins.

"Than why didn't she love me?" she asked, tears leaking from her eyes still.

In all his years teaching, this wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with a crying girl. As far as crying went, considering all Tracey went through in her short life, she hadn't done a lot of crying and whenever she did cry she was well justified. However, even through all the years, it still made him extremely uncomfortable.

"I can't answer that, Tracey. I don't know your mother, and I don't know how she expressed love if she felt it," he stated softly, trying to make the blow she was sure to receive at that, less harsh. He felt his heart clench when he felt her shudder and bury her face in his chest once more. "You should really try to get more sleep, Tracey," he said, reluctantly patting her head. Soon enough, she stopped shivering. However, Severus couldn't remove his hand from her hair. It was dry already, and very soft. Severus was sure he'd never touched anything softer or silkier.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, looking up at him. Her face was still wet from her previous crying, and her eyes wide and wet, but... and he hated to admit it considering the pain she was in, they were oddly gorgeous. He found himself silently nodded. Unconsciously, he regretted the fact that this meant she would move away and he'd lose contact with her hair, but he was wrong. The girl merely settled back in there, curled up into his chest with one arm draped around his middle.

And before he knew it, she was once more asleep.

**TBC...**

**A/n: **Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Hope someone is still reading this... Anyway as always please review!


	15. Hold Your Hand

**Difficult**

"_I know a girl, she puts the color inside of my world. _

_But she's just like a maze, where all the walls continually change. _

_And I've done all I can, to stand on the steps with my heart in my hand. _

_Now, starting to see, maybe it's got nothing to do with me."_

-John Mayer, Daughters

_**Chapter 15: Hold Your Hand**_

Severus was unsure how long he had been sitting there, however, parts of his body were completely numb. Especially those that Tracey was using as her personal cushion. He knew he really should move, to get some blood circulated to parts of his body that were currently deprived of blood flow, but he didn't feel like moving. Mostly from fear of waking, Tracey. After all, she really needed her sleep.

At some point, Severus started tracing his hands over Tracey's hair. Admittedly, he'd been curious to know what it felt like for quite sometime now. Severus wasn't particularly surprised when he felt how soft the silky tresses of her hair were, and how rich it felt in his hands. For longer than he cared to note, he ran his fingers gently through her hair, coming it. Methodically, he made the movement over and over until his arm tired, but he paid that no mind as his mind got lost in the soothing sound of her breathing against his side.

It wasn't long before he found himself unconsciously humming lowly, and slowly. A muggle tune that he heard in his youth, that somehow always managed to stay with him. All the while, his eyes stared sharply at Tracey's profile, sharply contrasted against the black of his robes. As he was sitting up and she was curled into him, so her hear lay neared to his abdomen, just over where his navel was rather instead of his chest.

It was hard for Severus to deny the girls beauty as he stared at her relaxed face, and the realization that she looked so relaxed and more carefree than he had ever seen her, even in sleep, made his heart to thud very hard and rapidly within his chest. For a moment, Severus felt his breath faltering, as he struggled to maintain his normal breathing pattern.

The girl was beautiful. He knew she had to be one of the most beautiful girls he had seen in his life. She had hair soft as down, silkier than silk and satin. It fell in lovely dark tresses, such a dark auburn that sometimes it looked like dark brown, while in the light there were highlights that looked like flames.

Her eyes, though angry and cold, were above all sad and so lost. Though her eyes were not the bright green he'd always loved, they had allure to them that... he found comforting the last few years.

Closing his eyes, Severus lightly shook his head, before opening them and looking down at them. For a moment, he paused in his stroking of her hair, and his hand hovered over her face, before it gently descended. He could feel sensory receptors of his finger pads become alive as he placed the barest of touchers on a smooth cheek. He was unsurprised by the fact that her skin was softer than anything he'd ever felt before, though it still amazed him.

Severus couldn't help the slight tug at the corner of his mouth as he glided his finger in the barest of touches across her cheekbone to push a strand of silky hair out of her face. Humming to himself, he traced her brows, which weren't furrowed in her sleep as they had been earlier, as if she were caught in some nightmare. He felt a lightening in his hear to see those sleek little brow of her lax, for once and hoped she was having a good dream for once. She deserved some peace.

_Tracey wandered through a wood. The trees were so thick and crowded together that she was unable to see the sunlight. Or the ground through the fog that was thick on the ground. However, Tracey was not afraid. The forrest had an air of peace... despite the darkness and she knew nothing would harm her there. _

_In the air floated a song, causing Tracey to drift towards it. In her heart, she knew the song, but the words seemed to evade her. Furrowing her brow, she continued to walk. She had been walking too long, and she felt tired and weary, and the song that continued to play in a loop was haunting her. She had to remember the words. That was the secret of it But she felt so tired. She needed to sit down. _

_Stumbling upon a fallen tree, Tracey sat on the trunk and rested her legs. Folding her hands in her lap, she played with the black material of her skirts. Briefly she recalled another night in a different world and different age. In this dress she sat on a stone bench. The night had been full of stars. That night he had come to her, and taken her in his arms. _

_Tracey shook her head of this and listened to the tune. She knew the words, they were somewhere in her head, but they were hiding from her. The words in her mind were playing a game of hide and seek with her that she hadn't consented to. Sighing, she wondered if he would come to her, but somehow knew he wouldn't. She had to summon him. _

"_Oh yeah, I'll... tell you something, I think you'll understand. When I say that something, I want to hold your hand..."_

_Tracey looked up and was startled to see a clearing where there had been no clearing before. A shaft of sunlight poked through the tree tops and almost seemed to her like a stage-light at a theater._

_Getting to her feet, Tracey quickly made her way into the clearing, and stopped before a bench set at this center. Fo a moment, all was silent as she stood still, listening. Too soon she started dreading the fact that she was alone, and feared that always would be so. However, the sudden feel of a hand on her shoulder quelled her fears. _

_Abruptly, Tracey turned, a smile tugging on her lips as she stared at stern features of the man who always somehow made her feel sage. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. _

"_I've been waiting for for sometime now," he said, his tone mildly peeved, but soft. _

"_I didn't mean to keep you waiting," Tracey replied as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, feeling his warmth radiate through his robes. She hadn't know she was so cold. In response, he placed kisses on her bare shoulder, which shot up to her head like the bubbles of champaign. She felt her heart come to life in her chest, and melted into his arms, dimly aware of when he sat down, pulling her into his lap. _

"_Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man," he whispered, his breath tickling her as he continued to ply kisses on her neck. _

_Tracey shivered in his arms, her own looped around his neck. "And please, say to me, you'll let me hold your hand," she breathed, her breath coming shallowly. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and felt suddenly an unbearable heat. She couldn't help mewling when she felt his tongue, hot and flush against her._

Severus clutched Tracey closer and ran his hands over her arms, which were still wrapped around him. He furrowed his brow, wondering if she was still cold, as she had just shivered. After a moment of rubbing some warmth into her arms, he reached up and placed a hand on her forehead. However, she didn't feel particularly hot.

Tracey's eyes fluttered open slowly and confusion briefly set in, as she tried to recall where she was. It didn't take long for the nightmare she was living to come back to her, but at the present she was unconcerned about it. She could still cling to pieces of her dream, and it... bothered her. It made her feel extremely strange and unsettled.

When she realized that she was resting on someone, she immediately sat up and pulled away, her eyes widened to see that it was Professor Snape. Upon this discovery, she scooted as far away from him as possible as a blush creeped up her neck. Her stomach was churning into tight coils. She breathed heavily as she stared at him, wondering how she had ended up resting on him, tucked into his side while his arms held her.

Belatedly, she knew that it was her fault. She had cried, against like she were some little girl and clung to him like a piece of germ. She felt bile rising in her neck and she wondered how many times she would make a fool of herself with Professor Snape.

"I'm sorry Professor," Tracey muttered, looking into her lap.

Severus felt ashamed to admit that he missed the feel of her body curled into his. However, as he sat up, he realized belatedly that feeling was coming back into his side and it was mildly painful. He could have almost smiled at the reminder of her presence. Almost. Instead, though, he was concerned about the fact that as soon as she woke that she tried to get as far from him as possible without getting out of the covers protection.

"What are you apologizing for?" Severus asked as he stood, stretching his limbs. Tracey bit her lower lip and blushed further, wondering why he had to ask. It was bad enough he had been aware of her clinging, now he needed to hear her tell him that she was apologizing for it?

She wouldn't do it. Clenching her jaw, she looked away and forced the blush on her face to recede.

Severus sighed as he watched her curl into herself. He could see what she was doing, like so many times she was putting up her walls and shutting him out. He knew it, because he had done it so many times in the past. He didn't know that a girl could be as bad as him when it came to keeping the world at bay, and far from where they could reach her feelings and hurt them.

"I'm only trying to help," Severus said with a sigh, wondering why she had to make things so difficult for him. She almost made him see why Gryffindors weren't so bad, wearing their hearts on their sleeves and being so foolishly open. Dealing with Tracey was far more exhausting. Every time he thought he had broken down a wall and getting closer to her, three more walls seemed to go up in its place.

"Help," Tracey scuffed with so much disdain that Severus felt like she had slapped him. She turned her guarded, mossy-green eyes to him and gave him a hard look. "You can't be here for me all the time, Professor. You can't really help me. When the time comes and he comes for me, and the time _will_ come, I'm going to be by myself. Like I've always been."

Severus stared at the girl, hating the fact that he understood her and that really, she was right. He couldn't really do much for her, and it made him feel so useless. If he couldn't even protect one of his own students, what good was he?

"I've told you already that I can't be there for you, it's why I taught you to defend yourself."

"Well that's all well and good when we were dueling and both have our wands. But what do I do when they have me sequestered away without my wand in a place that may as well be a fortress?" Tracey snapped starting to lose her calm as she became increasingly angry.

"You survive. Anyway you can," Severus stated simply. At this, they both fell silent, Tracey sitting on the bed and clenching her hands into fist as she looked away, while Severus watched her. It was already dawn. He had been here an entire night. As much as he hated having to leave her here, so close to the edge as she was, he had to. The Dark Lord had left him a baby-sitter this summer, and his absence would seem strange to him if it went on for any longer. Severus couldn't risk the Dark Lord being notified, even if he was at Malfoy Manor. "I have to leave. Are you going to be all right?"

It seemed a stupid question, they both knew that. Tracey merely shrugged and moved back to the center of the bed where she rearranged the pillows. She ignored the fact that he was there as she forced herself to settle back underneath the covers with her back towards him.

She knew that he had to leave, but it made her heart ache and her throat to become tight. She could feel tears prickling in her eyes, tears she couldn't afford for him to see. A part of her, a part that was not so miniscule, was demanding that she plead for him to stay. But she knew better than that. He had to go, he had a life of his own, which did not include just worrying about her. He had more important duties than to hold the hand of a scared little child.

Severus sighed as Tracey's lack of response. She was noe shutting him out completely. He walked towards the door, at which he turned to cast one last glance at Tracey. She was all but lost in the pillows and comforter. But he could see bit of her head, and her dark auburn hair contrasting sharply against the pillow. "Sleep well, Tracey," Severus stated softly before turning to leave.

Tracey shut her eyes, and willed herself not to cry. She wouldn't cry for the likes of any man. Even one such as Professor Snape.

**TBC...**

**A/n: **My apologies for the long wait and short chapter but hope its enjoyable. As always please review.


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